oh how I burn
by AkaOkamiRyu
Summary: #60: Barry and Caitlin are out on a double date with Iris and Eddie. A little jealousy develops for an unexpected reason (Snowbarry & Westhawne friendship fic). [a series of snowbarry short stories, with other friendships and pairings along the way]
1. how I burn

She's known him (really known him, not just the familiar, comatose body she guards over, but the pure hearted, sometimes awkward but always well meaning man she works with) for scarcely a month when he makes the comment: we were all struck by that lightning.

At the time, her lips tug upwards and she catches Dr. Wells' eyes and she agrees with the sentiment but it's a while yet before she realizes how very accurate his words are.

* * *

Central City is covered in a delicate (i.e.: dangerous) mixture of ice and snow and Barry Allen is covered in a disastrous (i.e.: disappearing) mixture of thin scratches and raw skin. He's sitting in what has become his usual seat on the med table, and she too is in her usual seat, hovering over him on a high stool, quickly disinfecting the injuries before they heal over. Cisco is elsewhere in the lab, gleefully making modified shoes for the Flash and Dr. Wells is just elsewhere.

She's doing her best to hold on to the disapproving scowl she tries to always maintain when patching Barry up, but the situation that created his wounds is so ridiculous (though not as ridiculous as his childlike pouting), that it's a battle she knows she'll soon lose. (Leave it to Barry Allen to forget to account for the reduced traction of winter roads and go sliding on his face and hands like an awkward toddler).

"You know, you can laugh Caitlin," he grouses, the tone so uncharacteristic that she startles. Dark brown eyes tear from the last of his lacerations to catch green through a slender forest of dark lashes. The quiet laugh that has been building at each disinfectant-caused flinch dies on her lips. Despite his tone, his eyes are dancing with mirth and that would be reassuring if it wasn't so distracting.

Caught in the shared gaze, she loses track of her limbs for the briefest moment, until Barry winces at the string of antiseptic and they startled out of the eye lock as easily as they startled into it.

This time she does laugh, partially because she can't help it and partially because it's the least awkward way to move past whatever's just happened. "I wonder what the bad guys would say if they knew that the Flash, Central City's big hero, could be brought down by snow and hydrogen peroxide?"

"They'd probably tell me to find a nicer doctor," he teases back, enjoying the play on words. The green of his eyes is blazing so brightly, she can only roll hers in response.

* * *

They were all struck by lightning—she just never expected it would lead to this kind of burn.

* * *

Obviously, I do not own the Flash or these characters. This is just the first of many bits &amp; pieces inspired by the fantastic chemistry between Grant Gustin &amp; Danielle Panabaker.


	2. apologies & forgiveness

It's not long after Team Arrow leaves that Team Flash begins to disperse for the evening as well. It's been a tense, busy two days and they're ready for a reprieve, brief though it will certainly be. As much as Barry wants to head home, sleep off the awful decisions of his day, he knows he has work to do.

He dons his suit and makes his pleas, but Iris isn't interested in them. He can't blame her: what he'd done, whatever the reason, was unforgiveable. And like he'd told Oliver, even if the rage had pushed him forward, there had been at least a bit of Barry Allen in his actions. He should have listened to Caitlin when she'd told him to leave her alone. Now he doesn't have much choice.

Foolishly, he wishes he weren't wearing his Flash gear. If ever there was a time for a long, slow walk, it's now.

But there's one more apology that's more than due and it's one he certainly can't let slide.

* * *

Just as he suspects, Caitlin's still in the lab when he returns. Cisco and Dr. Wells had left when he did, but she's lingering late as usual. Standing in the doorway, watching her click through something on the computer, he makes just one step inside before thinking better of it. Barry Allen made this mess, Barry Allen should be the one to fix it. In the blink of an eye, he's changed into his normal clothes and retakes that first step forward.

"Hey Caitlin," he calls out, tentatively, not wanting to startle her, as if attempting to minimize the disruptions he makes in her life.

He does anyway; she always focuses so completely on whatever task is at hand that it's nearly impossible not to surprise her. But her focus is an attribute he greatly appreciates, one that's helped him save the day many times so far and will probably many times to come.

"I thought you'd already left." The pointed look she gives him says that she's not as clueless as she's making herself to be: she knows exactly what he'd been up to a few minutes ago.

His apologies to Iris and Oliver might have come first but this one is monumentally the most important (which is probably why he'd put it off for last). Of all the relationships he'd manage to screw up in the last two days, this is the one that least deserves it. His anger at Iris and Oliver had had precursors, some rationale, no matter how poor, that had added fuel to the flames and given him at least the smallest hint of justification for his anger, if not his actions. But Caitlin has been by his side since the start of this, supporting both parts of him with equal tenacity. And all she's ever asked is that he's careful, that he does his best not to add to the list of tragedy she's encountered.

How on earth could he have held any anger, even meta-human induced, for one of the few people left in his life who knew and accepted all of him? Who just wanted to be sure that Barry Allen didn't trade his life for the Flash?

He has to make it right. He can't do this without Caitlin's support; he doesn't want to. "I did, but I came back." The eye-roll that his words provoke stings a little, but he knows he deserves it. Still standing by the doorway, he leans against the frame, digging in for the task ahead. "Listen, Caitlin, I'm sorry. I should have never snapped at you. Crazy red-eye rage or not, you're the last person in the world who deserves to be yelled at."

She opens her mouth, to argue, agree, he doesn't know but he raises a hand to stop her. "You fix all my mistakes, you listen to my doubts, you constantly try to stop me from doing every stupid thing I do. And the only thing I've ever been able to help you with was to give you someone to confide in and yet I managed to take advantage of all that when I yelled at you earlier. I have no idea how to make it up to you, how to make this better but I promise I will."

"Barry, I know it wasn't really you or your fault, I understand but I do appreciate the apology. You don't have to make it up to me, I get it. It's an occupational hazard." She's far too kind, too understanding, too desperate for the constancy of their friendship (he feels so much the same that he's choking on the desperation and the relief). As much as he wants it, she gives in too quickly and in some way frustrates him (residual anger maybe?) because she deserves better and more. But she won't demand it from him, not when she thinks he already suffers too much.

"Well," he brightens after a moment, let's the relief win out, because she may forgive him too easily, and he may not deserve it, but he's recently learned about not taking people for granted. She might give her forgiveness without him needing to earn it but that doesn't mean he can't fight to deserve it. "I'm going to anyway. You've been here for me through all this, and I don't want you to doubt that I'm here for you too. That's how this all works, right?"

"Right Barry."

* * *

Because we all want apology fics. Wrote this shortly after but I usually post everything to tumblr first (chasingblue57) and then add it here after I've had time to poke and prod a bit.

If you have any prompts or requests, feel free to shoot them over and I'll do my best on weekends between lesson planning.

Thanks &amp; Take Care!

A.O.R.


	3. thank yous & threats

**Thank Yous &amp; Threats**

* * *

Oliver had heard a lot about 'Team Flash' when Felicity had returned to Starling City after her visit a few months ago. He'd learned all about Cisco, Caitlin, Dr. Wells and of course, Barry's new powers and thought he'd had a pretty good read on their team. It doesn't take long for him to decide that Felicity may have been a bit short on the mark when it came to one member of the Central City crime fighters.

Caitlin Snow is brilliant and fierce, but not exactly physically intimidating. She may radiate confidence, poise and intelligence and might be a formidable presence in any room, but she does not exude an aura of danger by any means. Or at least, that's what he's been lead to believe, through Felicity's stories and descriptions.

When he and Barry walk into S.T.A.R. labs after all is said and done (eminent threats no longer eminent, secret identities no longer secret), his opinion changes drastically. They're in the middle of some seemingly innocuous conversations, Cisco and Felicity are talking about the boomerang findings, Digg is asking Barry rapid fire questions about his powers and Caitlin is checking something on a tablet until suddenly she's not, instead walking over to where Oliver is watching the two teams interact. He waits for her to comment, doesn't know her well enough to feel it's his place to pull a conversation she might not be sure she wants to have.

"Hey, Oliver?" She calls out tentatively. He catches the resolve settle across the otherwise calm set of her facial muscles from the corner of his eye.

"Yes?" He immediately, and unconsciously, begins to split his attention between his team and the brunette, turned toward her politely, but gaze still casting out for Felicity and Digg at random intervals.

"I just wanted to say, thank you for trying to help Barry earlier. Trying to help him see how important it is to be prepared, rather than go running into danger." She sounds like she is only too familiar with the complications that arise from this particular problem; it causes his lips to tick up in a grin. He's more than glad to share the benefit of too much experience and injury and bloodshed. If he can help someone do better than he has, at least there'll be some value in it.

"Of course—" Oliver begins, only to have the doctor interrupt, voice suddenly more sharp than grateful, a pointed, do-not-cross-me look taking over what has thus far been a friendly face. She suddenly has his almost totally undivided attention (he's a little blind sided by the sudden change).

"However, speaking as the person who regularly spends their time disinfecting and patching his wounds, I'd appreciate if your future coaching methods didn't include putting holes in him. Okay?" It's not a question with multiple choice answers, her tone says that plainly enough. Bemused and surprised by this new facet to a woman he thought he'd pretty easily figured out, Oliver just nods and wonders where that came from, shooting a look to Felicity who is completely unaware of his need for back up. "Wonderful. Thanks again Oliver." And she's walking away as if she didn't just serve up an under-the-table threat to the Arrow.

* * *

This idea came up as I was watching the Flash side of the crossover two weeks ago. I can just imagine Caitlin being grateful that the Arrow is trying to teach Barry a lesson about preparation only to find out he's shooting him with sharp objects and then diving into ticked off territory. I could totally see Caitlin Snow threaten the Arrow.

If you have any prompts, feel free to leave them and I'll do my best. Constructive suggestions are also always welcome-thanks for reading!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes

A.O.R.


	4. slowing down

Slowing Down

* * *

Caitlin wears a dress or a skirt practically every day. In fact it's stranger to see her wearing pants than anything else, so it's not as if he's not used to the sight of her bare skin. And it's not like he doesn't know Caitlin is beautiful, objectively or otherwise. Because she is, completely: only a fool wouldn't notice her soft curls, expressive eyes, well shaped legs and bright smile. Not to mention her sharp wit, the passionate way she dives into her work, the ferocity with which she protects the people she values. Barry has spent the better part of the last year surrounded by those things, becoming plenty familiar with all that is Caitlin Snow.

And yet, here he is, slack jawed and starry eyed at the sight of her-like every cheesy chick flick he'd watched with Iris growing up.

They're at the annual Central City Police Department fundraiser. As an employee, he's required to go but the rest of Team Flash had been given tickets by Joe as the only thank you he knows he can give them for all they do. Barry had arrived half an hour earlier because he'd promised Joe he would help with some last minute set up but he finds himself wishing he'd come with his team, if only to have gotten this embarrassing gawking done when he wasn't standing in a room with 200+ coworkers, socialites and donors. Then again, at least in the crowd they don't notice the expression.

It has to be the color, he decides a moment later, resolute and blinking back his stupor as Cisco and Caitlin spot him and make their way through the crowd. The red of her dress is exactly a match for his Flash costume and that can't be a coincidence, but it's certainly a distraction. The cut of it's nothing scandalous, but the bits and pieces of pale skin contrasting the red are really more alluring for the hints. (And when the heck did these thoughts come into play? But again, his color on any woman would be distracting, he reassures himself). Forcing a normal smile, Barry greets his two friends and they get down to the business of socializing and enjoying the evening.

* * *

It's after eleven and Barry is ready to pat himself on the back for how well he's put himself together after the evening's initial shock. But he's a glutton for punishment and so, when he sees Caitlin staring blankly across the dance floor, laughing silently as Cisco attempts to draw one of the data techs onto it, he can't help himself. The music changes from a quick tempo to a slow one and his hand is reaching out almost of its own volition.

"Dance with me Dr. Snow?" He asks playfully, with a confidence born of familiarity. Her answering smile is equal parts familiar and not but the tug it pulls in his stomach is certainly nothing he's ever felt before.

She doesn't even bother to answer, just sets her champagne glass on the table and lets him pull her away, inserting them carefully amongst the crowd. They tangle themselves together and for a moment Barry contemplates the benefits of a world that doesn't move at more than 500 miles an hour (a thought that only strengthens at the feel of her fingers ghosting along the back of his neck). "You look lovely tonight Caitlin," he mentions after a moment of silent, but largely meaningless, conversation. (One of the things he's most grown to treasure about their friendship is how easily they can say anything with a few glances).

"Who would have thought, Barry Allen, is a charmer?" she teases, grinning up at him. "But thank you, the color caught my eye more than anything." His fingers tighten at her waist and suddenly he can't help but wonder if she knows-knows exactly how distracted he's been all night, catching glances from the corner of his eye, fast as lightning while no one is looking.

Of course she does, he realizes. Caitlin Snow is always a half-step ahead of him. She's probably been seeing things he hasn't for a while now, just waiting for the fastest man alive to catch up.

Funny how that only happens when he manages to slow down and notice the details. Now that he has, he isn't going to let it pass him by. "Mine too," he smiles, tugging her a little bit closer, cheek pressed to her hair, fingers tracing absent patterns along her lower back, scarcely even bothing to sway along with the song he barely hears playing over them.

Some things are worth slowing down for.

* * *

I got caught up in the idea of Barry suddenly seeing Caitlin in a new light and then got the idea of her wearing something in Flash red and well, here we are. Might revisit this in the future, either a rewrite, an addition or reuse the concept and give it another go. Let me know your thoughts :)

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	5. the benefits of experience

**The Benefits of Experience**

* * *

In the fourteen months since Barry Allen woke up, Caitlin Snow's life has turned utterly upside down more times than she's willing to contemplate. Between meta-humans, near death experiences, helping to fight crime, finding her former fiancé alive, watching him walk away, finding the man who'd killed Barry's mother and helping his father go free, it's been nothing short of a roller coaster. Thankfully, those fourteen months have brought her strengthened and new friendships that she knows have kept her sane and seen them all through.

Tonight is not any sort of exception.

They're actually on a (Dr. Wells approved) trip in Starling City, having come to help Team Arrow deal with a particularly nasty meta-human hell bent on destruction (which was basically SOP for most meta-humans as far as she can tell).

But the bad guys have been beaten and all is temporarily well with the world and they've decided it's time to unwind, which is how they all find themselves sitting in the back corner of a quiet bar. They're drinking and laughing, enjoying the relative quiet of a Tuesday night. Oliver and Barry have taken their (mostly) playfully competitive streaks to the dartboard and Diggle's testing his natural aptitude for pool against Cisco's natural aptitude for physics and Roy's natural aptitude for pool sharking. Which leaves Caitlin and Felicity to catch up over their own drinks at the table.

Felicity is in the middle of particularly ridiculous story that involves Roy, little Sarah and baby powder when she notices that her audience's attention has wavered. Rather than try and re-catch Caitlin's attention, she follows where it leads and notices that her decidedly spaced out gaze is on Barry.

Felicity Smoak is many things (tech genius, babbler, secret city saver) but blind is not one of them. She's been watching the dynamic shift between Barry and Caitlin for a year now, maybe longer and she's honestly surprised that their whole world hasn't just given up and tipped on its axis yet (though granted, who is she to talk?). She remembers visiting Barry when he was still in his coma, remembers seeing the detached and closed off doctor who tended to her patient with clinical language and very little empathy. She also remembers Cisco pulling her away after one such visit and finally just explaining her brusque nature.

She remembers the Caitlin Snow of those early months after Barry'd woken up, how she seemed more alive with each encounter: smiling a little more, laughing more often, opening up to people in a way that initially surprised the hell out of Felicity, given what she had once seen and knew. It wasn't hard to see what, or who, had begun to make the difference. Their friendship, Felicity knew, was built on a strong foundation of shared life experiences and beliefs. They both knew loss and they both knew what it felt like to want to build a better world out of it.

Even in the wake of Ronnie's return, of Firestorm, Felicity had watched their relationship strengthen. She knew, second hand granted, how Barry had been willing to sacrifice almost anything to stop Ronnie without hurting him, how badly he'd been injured for the attempt. They had come to help after that, and she had seen with her own eyes how closely they'd gravitated to one another, seeking strength and comfort from the person they'd both grown used to providing it. Eventually, they'd gotten through to Caitlin's former fiancé and begun to help him. It was the first time in all the time she'd known her, that strong, poised Caitlin Snow seemed to falter. Felicity couldn't blame her. But in the end, Ronnie had left the life that no longer belonged to him. Barry had been there through it all.

If she were a betting woman, which she totally no longer is (thank you poorly executed infiltration of an illegal gambling operation), she'd say that they love each other. Felicity isn't quite sure you can go through the things they have, be someone's rock like that, and not come out on the other side loving someone in some way. But she's pretty sure they've never had the conversation and she's got a pretty jaded personal history that tells her exactly why that is.

But Caitlin and Barry are not her and Oliver and if Felicity can help it, they never will be.

"You should talk to him," she says finally, because Caitlin hasn't noticed her sudden silence and her gaze hasn't shifted either.

"Talk to who?" Her whole posture startles a bit and her dark gaze swivels back to her tablemate, catching up her beer and talking a deep drink as if to clear her frayed attention.

Felicity can't blame the denial: she's been there. And maybe she is reading it all wrong, or maybe they're just not reading it at all yet, or maybe it's as simple as it seems: just a denial of a truth Caitlin is hiding from. She's not in a position to judge.

"I've been there, you know." She says instead, playing with her glass of wine and feeling even more reflective then she had a moment ago. "I don't think you can live the life we do and not start to walk that line with them, not the way we live it anyway." Fully committed, without much thought to an 'outside' world or any semblance of normalcy. With the knowledge that you have to become everything to one another, because who the hell else can do that?

"Oliver and I stretched ourselves out for so long it was too much, when were finally ready to face how we felt. There was too much at stake, too much to risk so at the first sign of trouble, he was terrified for me and completely shut down. I think if we'd come around sooner, it wouldn't have been so much on the line: pieces of our hearts instead of all of them." Now she's the one with the faraway gaze, watching Barry smack talk Oliver while the latter simply shook his head and scowled in a way that held no heat and was fonder then he would have wanted it to seem. "Now we're just sitting here, waiting for something we might not ever have but we can't really move on from it either." Not for lack of trying on her part, but when you love someone, you love them and Oliver Queen is not a man she can have or get over. She doesn't wish that life on anyone.

Caitlin knows they're both too smart to try and play dumb, so she just listens to Felicity, a frown tugging across her lips as she absently taps at her condensation beaded glass. She's not entirely sure she's ready to face all these deepening feelings, or that she wants to, but the other woman is right. If she doesn't stop avoiding them, she might never be able to escape or embrace them and she can't tell if that thought terrifies or soothes her.

"I never expected any of this. When Ronnie died I decided that was it: I'd throw myself into my work, try and make the best of a world I'd helped break. I didn't think anyone would ever make me feel much of anything again: hope, trust, safety, happiness, love." Caitlin trails off, bites her lip and sighs. "I didn't expect I'd meet someone who could change any of that, let alone all of it."

Felicity nods, she gets it, gets how everything they do tears their lives upside down in so many more ways than the obvious. She'd like to say more, wants them to analyze this conversation to a solution the way she would a line of code or Caitlin would a DNA sample, but suddenly they're being summoned. Roy, who has been absolutely losing his ass at pool, is demanding they play teams and Barry's calling over to see if they need new drinks, which prompts everyone else to throw out their orders as well.

Both women laugh and move to join their team (because at moments like this, they're one team even if it's made up of two pieces), Caitlin offering to help Barry with the glasses. As she snags Felicity's empty wine glass and downs the last of her own, the other smiles softly at her. "Maybe you're not quite there yet, but you really should talk to him sometime." Caitlin nods and reflexively returns Barry's beaming smile as he grabs the glassware from her, settling it at the bar and immediately asking if she's got any advice on how to kick Oliver's ass in their next round of darts. "He might just surprise you," Felicity mutters to no one with a small grin.

* * *

I don't know that the top and the rest jive, but I really like the idea of Felicity playing big sister to Caitlin about Barry. But I think it'd be sometime thrown into the future, when their friendship is at this place where they're either platonic best-friend soul mates or they're going to end up completely in love. I might come back to this idea and do some different takes at some point.

Also, big shout outs to EnlacedMelody and DylanOhbrian on AO3, who's fics (What the Heart Wants) &amp; (where we fit (like puzzle pieces)) completely inspired this. Both have these little Felicity noticing something moments that made me want to write this, so check them out :)

Suggestions and ideas are always appreciated, I am working on some prompts I've been given, should definitely be able to wrap them up over the holiday season with some time off from work.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	6. what's in a name

What's in a Name

* * *

At first he only does it quietly, when his voice has gone soft and his eyes are searching and his tone could be wounded, but it's wounded for her. He'll break a still room with the syllable and in the dissipating silence her walls shatter. She wishes she could hate him for it, but there's no denying that the stuttering drag of her heart in those moments is a precise counterpoint to hate.

So she'll bury whatever annoyance is desperate to crawl out of her skin and instead raise her gaze to his, letting the green invade her darkest pieces with their endless promises of light and life; hope and concern. Her lips will drag themselves upwards like a drowning man for the beach and she'll step a measured pace forward, closer but not too close, edging herself into his inevitable gravity.

Whatever words follow the first one scarcely matter; he says everything he needs to in that single, soul stealing beat.

* * *

Later he'll say it playfully, the cadence of that forceful exhale high and heedless, his eyes dancing with mirth and merriment. There might be a challenge skirting the edge of it, or just laughter, or a careless mix of the two, but it never really matters. He'll call it out loud and unassuming, eager to pull her into whatever orbit he's circling, as if sheer force of his beaming radiance were enough to claim her unwavering attention.

And of course it is, and damn him he doesn't even really know it, but certainly he must sense it under the layers of pretense they put up for the rest of the world. No matter how she might huff and haw, drag her simple black heels in the metaphorical dirt, she'll pick up the challenge and meet him toe for toe. Her grin an immediate response to his siren's call: a question without a question in those four little letters that she is only too happy to answer.

It never matters what situation invokes the reaction, she'll toss her hat into the flames besides his any day.

* * *

Eventually he'll say it reverently, the briefest exclamation of wonderment and prayer, his eyes wide with a wonder she can't imagine she could twice deserve and certainly never from him. In a world wrung with sound and sensation, with heaving respiration and inhalation, it'll break the chaos into two defining halves: a before and an after and nothing is ever the same. And she'll love him all the more for the way it sounds like a promise on his tongue.

In the heartbeats that follow, pounding out a tandem to his heavy epithets, she'll give back as fully as he gives: all that light and life; hope and concern. She'll abandon whatever frail excuses she once clung to and throw herself overboard into everything he's offering in that single, clear pronunciation: all the devotion and challenge and sweet, sweet victory that rolls off his tongue and spills from his heart.

All it takes is the brief pull of his diaphragm and air over his vocal cords and she leaps into his orbit, glad for the gravity she's too long been bereft of.

* * *

There are so many things they give one another, but the first thing she gives is something he takes himself, a nickname: Cait.

(It's okay though because in a once upon a time to come, he'll give his own name back to her and they'll have never needed to settle this score but it will still be oh so satisfying.)

* * *

Wrote this one after a very long day of teaching and selling tickets for basketball. I got stuck on the idea of Barry calling her Cait when he was worried. Which then turned into him calling her Cait when he was feeling playful and then of course, in the heat of the moment their first time together. I think nicknames from people you care about (in any capacity) just have this way of catching you up in a moment and a feeling, which is where this comes from.

Gonna be working on some prompts I received here and on tumblr. Hope to get to a few yet this weekend but I will definitely be writing over my holiday break, since I'll have some actual free time, rather than just writing when I should be sleeping.

All feedback and prompts are appreciated!

Thanks &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	7. holiday traditions

holiday traditions

* * *

It's three days to Christmas and she's not sure if it's the sudden blizzard that's picked up in the last two hours, the music filling her apartment or the sight of Barry Allen covered in an obscene amount of flour: but she feels engulfed in holiday spirit in a way she hasn't been for the last two years. Caitlin bursts into a peal of laughter and he doesn't hesitate to join her, grinning like it's some sort of victory and looking not the least bit contrite for the mess he's caused. "This is probably where an "I told you super speed wouldn't be good for mixing cookie dough" should be expected, right?"

Her eyes roll but there's no heat in it, save the warmth of her amusement. The mess doesn't really matter (which is not a sentiment she could imagine holding a few years ago, before messy became a primary adjective in her life). "I think making you clean up after we finish will probably be punishment enough," she offers instead, pointedly looking around at her kitchen. It'll only taken him seconds to clean it anyway.

His grin is positively cheeky now, but it only makes her smile wider in response, even as she pulls the bowl he'd been stirring across the counter to empty its contents into the trash. "This time, I'll stir and you can measure instead." He nods, grabbing the recipe again and beginning to re-sort the ingredients they had only finished using minutes ago.

"Sounds like a plan Caitlin." And just like that, he's back to business, prepping ingredients while she re-washes the stainless steel mixing bowls for round two.

They work in a flour soaked, amiable silence that is perfectly comfortable but, as always, doesn't last long. (They've gotten pretty good at all of this in the last year and a half: they make a good team even when surrounded by chaos). "Thanks, by the way," because Barry is never that good at silence, even when it's an easy one. He likes to fill the air with reassurances, and he's good at them. All the same, the thank you seems out of place, judging by the way her eyebrows pull down and her nose scrunches up in a slight and silent question. "I've never made my mom's cookies by myself before—she always made a big deal out of Christmas and this is one of those traditions I've tried to keep going."

What he doesn't say is that he and Iris usually make them together but his best friend is out of town until Christmas Eve for work and he could neither bring himself to not make them or to make them alone. But he doesn't need to say it: she gets it, would have gotten it even if she hadn't been at lunch with them both (and Cisco) earlier in the week when they'd found out Iris was being called out of town to cover a story. She'd seen the sinking expression he had worked so hard to quell, filling it over with enthusiasm for his best friend's big news: it was a big opportunity and he had shown nothing but happiness for Iris.

But she had seen the flicker and had pulled Iris aside later to ask about it and when the other woman had explained their holiday tradition, Caitlin had been happy to offer her help. It was, after all, what she and Barry did for one another: fill in the hard spaces their pasts left gaping open, be the person the other needed them to be to keep moving forward. Sometimes she worried they overstepped in each other's lives, but Iris pulling her into a hug and thanking her reassured her that it wasn't the case: as had Barry's grin later that night when she'd asked if he wanted to help her make dessert for the annual West family Christmas party, claiming that she had promised Iris she'd make sure everything was ready when she got back.

"Of course Barry," she says after a moment, the memories flicking to the back of her mind as quickly as they'd come to the front. "That's what friends are for." They start mixing ingredients again, talking about recent meta-human encounters, Cisco's latest infatuation and childhood memories and in what seems like no time at all, she has a kitchen filled with perfect, fluffy cut outs that taste better than anything she thinks she's ever eaten. She whips up a batch of her own homemade, eggnog frosting and laughs at Barry's enthusiastic grin when he melds the two traditions together and insists that they'll have to decorate all the cookies tomorrow night, when they have more time.

They're in the middle of cleaning up—together, despite her earlier teasing—when Caitlin bumps his shoulder suddenly, a friendly smile warming her expression. "Thanks for sharing your Christmas tradition with me, I haven't had much of those lately."

He just grins, letting his shoulder bump back against hers as they place stacks of cookies into well worn holiday tins, feeling for all the world like one of his favorite traditions has only gotten better, rather than worse. "That's what friends are for."

* * *

Happy Christmas Snowbarry shippers-one of my gifts to you! The others will be belated between now &amp; New Years as I get time between festivities.

Snowbarry friendship fic, with some Iris/Caitlin friendship as well, set another year into the future. I really like the idea of Caitlin and Barry helping one another move forward and jumping in when help is needed, and I like Iris being a part of that as well. I also kind of want to make this a piece of a bigger story, like them continuing this tradition forward, with some eventual relationshippy business (&amp; kids!), so we'll see what I manage over the holidays.

To those that have sent and suggested prompts, I have a list! And a whole holiday break ahead of me, after family celebrations, to actually work on writing them. I have not forgotten, I promise!

Take Care, Best Wishes &amp; Happy Holidays!

A.O.R.


	8. holding patterns

holding patterns

* * *

It's been a slow week, meta-human wise and Barry can't bring himself to be disappointed. As much as he loves catching the bad guys and helping people, it's nice to have a break now and then. Over the last year he's come to enjoy quiet nights with the team when the most pressing problem is what kind of drink to order (tonight it's microbrews at some bar Cisco's been wanting to try for weeks).

The tech savy leg of their trio, however, is off shooting pool with some pretty redhead (not nearly as well as he should be, given his degree in physics but she's smiling more brightly at him with every bad joke he tells so who can blame his distraction?). Caitlin and Barry remain at the table, their conversation switching easily between assessing Cisco's flirting skills and sharing lab accident stories from their college days.

She's in the middle of a particularly animated story about electrophoresis gels when a thought filters errantly through his mind. It strikes him so sharply that his mouth is interrupting the end of her explanation before he can stop himself. "It's too bad we didn't go to school together." It's a thought he's had before, but never this intensely, never so acutely that he's felt compelled to share it aloud.

But it must catch her too, because Caitlin stops her story mid-sentence, head slanting slightly to the left, eyeing him curiously, the hint of a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. "Why's that?"

She's curious, not accusing, when she asks, suddenly shifting her weight over the table a little, eyes bright as they watch him. He knows this look, has spent the last year watching it settle over her features from across the lab. This look is full on Doctor Snow, all thirst for knowledge and earnest intrigue, desperate for deeper understanding. It's one of his favorite expressions on her (partially because it means he hasn't done anything stupid to annoy her but mostly because he knows just how that look feels).

"Would've been nice to have someone to talk science with," he answers, which is true even if it's not the whole truth. It's a partial admission, not really a lie, because it is nice, having Caitlin (&amp; Cisco) to talk with about science. Iris has always done her best to understand but her whole hearted support is not quite the same as getting it and he'll admit sometimes it's wonderfully easy to just be able to talk with his new friends, no explanations or Cliff notes needed. (He'll feel guilty about that every time he ever thinks it, probably forever, but he knows Iris wouldn't really mind, that she cares enough—so much—that she'd just grin and be wildly happy for him).

But there's also more to it than that and it's nights like these (&amp; really, all the others too) that make him wonder how differently it might have gone if he'd known them, known her, sooner. Would it have been Caitlin, rather than Iris, that he would have spent his teenage years pining for? Would their already easy friendship have had the room to grow to something more if it weren't so busy being stifled by her grief and his decade long infatuation? He tries not to focus on those questions, unanswerable and unchangeable as they are, but sometimes his mind gets caught up in analyzing the details despite his best efforts, scrutinizing them the way he would a crime scene in need of solving, and in those moments he just can't quite let it all go.

Caitlin is beautiful, there is absolutely no denying it, but even more than that, she is brilliant and passionate and stubborn. She fights for the things (the people, he thinks warmly, knowing he is one of them) that she believes in with a tenacity that sometimes catches his breath. She keeps him on his toes, calls him out on his bullshit but never lets him feel like he's alone in his struggles. The truth is, he's not sure he can imagine his life without her in it, by his side.

Yet for all that knowledge, for all the soul deep conviction that accompanies those thoughts, he's still in love with Iris and her heart still belongs to Ronnie. They're still stuck in the same holding patterns and he's not sure they'll ever escape (even if escape might be the very best thing for them, for all of them).

"I know what you mean," because she always does, always seems to understand whatever thoughts bounce through his mind. (He wonders if these more recent thoughts would be the exception or if they too would follow the rule they've developed). "I didn't have too many close friends in high school, definitely no one who understood me."

He can hear the unspoken 'like you do' linger in the silence that follows, a tiny piece of traction that adds to all the rest, still so insignificant to their insurmountable realities. Maybe someday they'll be enough to gain some ground on whatever's stirring between the, enough to allow them to escape their pasts.

For now they remain content with shared smiles and understandings. They order another beer and lose themselves in laughter at Cisco's stunned face when he comes back to the table with a fresh drink and a date for Friday night.

—

(It takes four more years of tiny pieces but eventually Barry answers all those questions—turns out it doesn't matter the path or the obstacles, he's pretty sure they were always going to get there and, honestly, it's certainly worth the wait.)

* * *

So I couldn't resist ending on a slightly more positive note because this one tugged on my heartstrings for the week I was writing it down in my notebook. All the same, this fic basically outlines how I feel about this pair: they could be great together, maybe would have been, if they'd known each other before they'd fallen in love with other people. As they stand now, there's really no chance for them, but maybe, if they can find a way past or through their current love interests, they could really make it.

Also, I'd like to say a big thank you to everyone who's reviewed so far. One of my break goals is to get caught up on replying to those but a shout out especially to Airsay &amp; Littlemermaid1990, both of whom are wonderfully supportive &amp; whose support is very much appreciated!

Thoughts? Feedback is appreciated as always!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	9. for the love of horses

for the love of horses

* * *

At just four years old, Mikaela Allen falls in love with the stuffed pony her Auntie Iris buys for her birthday. She drags the brown on white animal (which she names Snowflake, in honor of the storm that's barely fading outside) everywhere and tells anyone who will listen all about how Auntie Iris and Uncle Eddie are going to take her horseback riding in the summer. At night she sleeps only when mommy reads her a bedtime story, daddy tucks her in and both have given both her and Snowflake kisses goodnight.

Barry and Caitlin just smile and comply and add _Black Beauty_, _Misty_ and _the Horse Diaries_ to her list of bedtime stories. They figure the infatuation will wear off the way so many other things seem to (a stark and scary reminder that their little girl will not stay little long). For now it's easy and fun to indulge in her new love.

When Christmas comes that year, Santa brings Snowflake a new friend (Speckles), more horse books and even a few horse movies (though it's Uncle Cisco who gives her _Spirit_, which she will eventually watch so often they'll have to buy a new copy). That night, while Kella sleeps at Grandpa Joe's (after her story and being tucked in and kisses for her, Snowflake and Speckles), Barry and Caitlin run home to prepare her present from them—a horse themed bedroom complete with a small herd of not quite life sized horses on the wall (all of which get their very own names as soon as she sees them the next afternoon).

* * *

Kella's love of horses doesn't fade with time. When she starts school that fall she picks notebooks and folders and pencils covered in horses of all different colors, tucking them excitedly into her purple backpack. Snowflake and Speckles take turns accompanying her to school each day and both sit on the table as she does her homework before dinner each night. Her favorite movie is still Spirit and the best part about school is that she gets to check out any book in the library she wants and so now each night she reads the bedtime story to her parents, and they discover the extensive collection of horse related books housed at Central City elementary. (Mommy sings a lullaby instead of reading but Daddy still tucks her in and still no one can sleep without the usual round of bedtime kisses).

In first grade she comes home from career day practically buzzing (Caitlin is adamant she gets her energy from her father—which Joe won't let Barry argue). She proudly (and dramatically—a trait she gets entirely from her mother, Barry often claims) says that she knows exactly what she wants to be when she grows up: a horse doctor. Caitlin just beams and teachers her the word veterinarian as they begin to research for her project. Caitlin makes dinner when Barry gets home so that Kella can tell her daddy all the things they've learned so far (like how she'll go to a school just like mommy did, except for animals not people, and how when she's older mommy will teach her how to give shots and check ups and how daddy will be a great pretend horse to practice on).

It continues to be basically all she talks about for weeks as she works on her career report. She spends hours practicing and perfecting her poster and information and trying to decide what she should wear for her big presentation. When her parents give Kella her very own lab coat to wear (with Doctor Allen carefully stitched above the pocket where one of Caitlin's stethoscopes is tucked), she throws her little arms around them both in an extra tight hug, saying thank you at a hundred miles an hour. She tries it on a half dozen times before bed and picks her very favorite dress to wear with it and takes twice as long to fall asleep as usual.

The next day Caitlin cries as they watch her give her presentation at school and Barry takes dozens of pictures with his work camera, including a nice family photo that they use for their Christmas card next year (when Kella gets her very own doctor bag and tools).

* * *

As the years pass, everything changes and everything remains the same. Snowflake and Speckles no longer take turns accompanying Kella to school every day but they remain on her bed, awaiting her return each night. She doesn't ask to be tucked in anymore but she gives both her parents a kiss and hug before she heads up to bed to read (first the _Saddle Club_ and then _The Horse Whisperer_ and _the Eighty Dollar Champion_) and go to sleep. At thirteen she asks to paint her bedroom with her best friend for her birthday party (three gold walls and one plum) but she also asks if she can take riding lessons at the local stable if she promises to help work them off by doing chores there.

She starts high school and loves science and English and boys and nearly gives Barry a heart attack when she asks to go to her first school dance. She fends off heartbreaks on horseback, studies before dinner each night and graduates at the top of her class before attending Central City University. Four years later when she's graduating with a degree in biology and celebrating her admittance into vet school, she groans in embarrassment (and love) when Caitlin pulls out a cake topped with a picture from her first grade career day presentation. (But she hugs her parents tightly when she opens her gift a little later: three new lab coats that have Doctor Allen stitched in plum with a stethoscope in the pocket to match).

And when she leaves for school one month later, they all cry as she packs Snowflake and Speckles, but not before Barry and Caitlin give all three kisses goodbye.

* * *

My students were watching Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron last week and this just started because we need some Snowbarry kid/family tics and who doesn't love little girls who love horses?

I know it gets kinda sad at the end but I liked the idea of Kella (Mikaela) growing up and becoming a vet because she loves science as much as her parents, just a different area of it. I will probably most definitely return to Kella and family fics in the future, there might be a little brother in there somewhere too, but for this is just worked better to just have her.

Thoughts? Also, I had -no idea- what to call this one so if anyone has any better title ideas, please share! Thanks all-happy New Year's Eve (or New Year, depending on your location!)


	10. my heart to yours, one stitch at a time

my heart to yours, one stitch at a time

* * *

You would think someone as quick as The Flash would learn to avoid shattered glass, but here he is, covered in a network of thin (and some not so thin) lacerations, slowly bleeding all over. They sting, to be sure, but Barry is satisfied that they're worth it, given that Cisco and Dr. Wells are currently placing their latest meta human adversary behind bars. Of course, that feeling of satisfaction for a job well done is somewhat marred by the frown coloring Caitlin's expression as she works to remove the glass fragments embedded in his wounds before they heal over. Once upon a time he would have thought that look meant she was furious with his stupidity—now he knows better. Now he recognizes that that downward tug of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the way her eyes darken and her breath pulls sharply are tells for an entirely different set of emotions (though, he supposes, there's probably a little fury in the mix as well). Mostly though, she is worried, or was, and now she's mostly relieved, maybe a little upset. (She hates the risks he takes sometimes, the low regard he places on his own well being).

"Hey," he calls out quietly, catching her attention and her wrist with the upturn of his hand. He ignores the sting of the antiseptic now abandoned and uneven on his arm as her nose wrinkles in an unasked question. "Sorry about all this—I was trying to be careful." Briefly he wars with how to tone the words, settling for ending them in a way that is both playful and contrite, hoping to draw her into an easier mood.

He does pull a smile, despite what he knows is her very best effort to remain stern and impassive. (Making Caitlin Snow smile in spite of herself is practically a second superpower as far as Barry Allen is concerned and some days it gives him as much a rush as super speed).

"I know," she sighs, though the smile lingers a moment longer. Caitlin abandons his grasp to pick up her forceps and alcohol pads again, returning to scanning his badly cut arms for stray glass, occasionally pausing her search to extract one such piece. "That face wasn't so much about getting hurt as worrying some of these more minor wounds will heal with glass still in them." But her final checks seem to alleviate that worry because she trades the forceps for a suture kit and taps his left wrist.

He holds out that arm, bending the elbow awkwardly to allow her access to the deeper cut that's still bleeding slightly and gaping open just above his brachioradialis. "I guess super healing isn't all it's cracked up to be."

She rolls her eyes lightly, gives a hum of agreement and sets to the task of stitching the wound, fingers pressing softly around the open skin as she considers how best to mend it together. It takes her only a few seconds to come to a decision—proof of practice, he supposes, given how commonplace this situation has become, despite her initial protests to patching him up. A moment later she's sliding on a topical analgesic (that will only dull the first few stitches but she feels better pretending and he's willing to give her that reassurance) and beginning a fresh set of neat, precise, perfect sutures.

Sometimes he wonders why she bothers to stitch him up at all. Even the worst wounds will heal in a few hours, prompting her to cut out the stitches she is so painstakingly placing. He's sure they'd heal relatively well without the assistance (or with the aid of something quicker and easier, like tape or glue) and she knows it too, better than him, yet every time he's hurt they find themselves in this position and she never cuts corners with an easier fix.

He supposes part of that is just in her nature: Caitlin is a scientist and a doctor, she's not one to just leave things on the wayside or do them halfway. If there's a way to be involved, to help, then she feels compelled to do so, especially when helping is in her specific realm of expertise. The evidence is in the precise, practiced way she lays every stitch, and goes through every safety protocol as she works. It's also in the binders of notes he knows she takes each time he's injured or does something new, tracking and hypothesizing (and worrying) in turn.

At the same time, he can't help but think it's more than the mere calling of a doctor or a scientist. That the effort and care speak to something that Caitlin can't help or deny (and neither can he): that they both just need these particular motions to roll through, these moments of reassurance, to help them get through their day to day. Because whatever else they are, they are a reminder, sharp and sure, that they've both survived again. That while life and circumstance have thrown them another loop, they've made it to the other side—maybe scared, maybe scarred but still breathing and beating and there for each other.

He knows it certainly rings true for him. In those moments when the speed and adrenaline have worn off, it's the calm, steady brush of Caitlin's fingers, the stinging scent of antiseptic and the click of her heels on the tile that center him home. Like Pavlov's dog, he's come to respond to these constants—they draw full air into his lungs, slow his heart and bring his mind from survival (and victory) to the here and now. He tries not to be dramatic, but all the same, he can't imagine the mess he'd be without those constants. Granted, it took him a while to realize how important these moments are but that revelation is why he gave up fighting them: now she's the first person he looks for when all is said and done, gladly submitting to her fussing with nothing more than a fond smile and an apology that is equally unnecessary, unneeded and untrue (because they both know it'll just happen again anyway).

He can't be certain but he can certainly hope that she feels the same way, that she draws the same comfort from the familiarity of the scene. (If she doesn't then she is the most patient woman in the world—and for all her fine qualities, he knows that isn't really one of them).

Still, he's sure he can't be entirely imagining the changes that fall over her when he walks back into the lab and immediately heads to the med chair: the way the tension seems to fall away from the planes of her fave even as her eyes are dragging over him, quick and assessing. He's sure that the steely, clinical, resigned look softens each time he smiles and offers up some wayward excuse or explanation. He does know, without a doubt, that it never fails to earn an answering smile, no matter how slight. In rare moments, when he's feeling particularly sure of himself and the world (and when he's feeling particularly calmed by the soft brush of her touch, the light scent of her perfume, the even tempo of her breathing), he would swear that her own body slows as she works. He's almost sure sometimes that he can sense it, as her examination stretches: that her touch gentles, her breathing eases and perhaps even her heartbeat steadies as she comes more and more to grips with the knowledge that his injuries are light and not lingering.

Of course, he might be imagining it, perhaps it is just Caitlin living entirely in her skin of doctor and scientist, but he certainly hopes he isn't.

* * *

(He lived too long in a one sided dance, he wants a partner the next time around and with every grounding brush of her skin against his, with every tug of nylon string, he wants more and more for that partner to be her).

* * *

I'm torn between feeling the end was rushed and thinking there was no better way to end it—thoughts?

Happy New Year's my snowbarry friends—this was the last fic I posted on tumblr (chasingblue57 there) in 2014 and now the first I've posted here in 2015, but there are plenty more where this came from in the works.

This little guy is dedicated to snowbarrified on tumblr, who is the sweetest of the sweet—thanks for being so positively lovely!

Thoughts, suggestions and prompts always welcome. I've got a list of them I'm working on right now.

Thanks, take care &amp; best wishes!

A.O.R.


	11. tuesday morning coffee

Tuesday Morning Coffee

* * *

In the years that stretch between those first months and now, she's gotten much better at sensing his arrival (or perhaps just better at estimating his tardiness)—they all have. Sometimes, when things are slow, she and Cisco place lunch bets on when he'll show up at the lab. (Caitlin hasn't bought too many lunches lately; thankfully Cisco's endless optimism keeps him playing despite his losses).

It's a Tuesday morning and he's seven minutes later then he said he'd be on the phone and she's already watching the door when his shoe edges into view. He barely makes it two feet into the lab, two coffees in hand, before Caitlin's brow creases and her smile sags towards her shoes: something's wrong.

The coffee in Barry's right hand (his) is two sizes bigger than the one in his left (hers), which makes it three sizes bigger than usual. The bottoms of his sneakers drag against the tile, slow and lethargic, his toes scuffing at the pristine surface. He's still wearing a smile, mouth parted to greet her, but it's not as wide as it typically is and doesn't even reach his eyes. His hair, which has been badly in need of a cut for a month now, is a little bit everywhere and there's a thin layer of stubble dancing across the line of his jaw, spilling down his neck and up his chin and lip. He looks haggard but when he catches the concern in her expression, his eyes do warm a little.

Caitlin pulls herself to her feet and lets him come to her without comment, taking both cups from his hands and setting them down as soon as he's near enough. Her gaze briefly lingers across the planes of his face before she steps forward to envelope him in the hug he clearly needs.

Barry sags into the embrace, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply. His arms are wrapped tight around her, tugging her closer even as she burrows against his neck. They remain tangled together a long time, the tension slowly draining from his grip until eventually he pulls away with a "thank you" that Caitlin playfully rolls her eyes at. The grin that answers is a little closer to his usual expression (she breathes a silent sigh of relief).

"Rough night at work?" Caitlin finally asks once they're settled across from each other at the lab table, coffees back in hand. He'd been called away from the lab the evening before to work a case with Joe and Eddie. When he hadn't called them after an hour, the STAR labs team had decided it must be an ordinary, non meta-human crime and headed home.

"Whole family died," Barry sighs around the mouth of his cup, taking a long drink before starting again. "Mom, dad and three kids between eight and fifteen. Looks like a botched burglary—I was processing all night…still should be, but Joe sent me to the lab to get samples running and then go get some food and sleep."

And Barry being Barry (someone who carried every burden personally, as if he were solely responsible for the weight) had instead gotten coffee and come straight here. "You should get some rest Barry, you can't help those people without taking care of yourself." (It's a constant struggle between them, but one she's gotten much better at winning in recent months).

"I know, I'm planning to but I promised you coffee and I wanted to deliver." The bright, boyish grin chases away most of the lingering heaviness she knows is going to eat at him until this case is solved. It's not much, but she's glad for the temporary distraction, even if she also feels a bit guilty that he's currently forgoing sleep for her and their Tuesday morning tradition. (She'd feel worse if she didn't suspect that it was more her company he'd been craving then the caffeine).

"My hero," Caitlin tells him, taking another appreciative sip of her favorite spiced chai before letting her free hand lift and cross the space between him. Smiling affectionately, she drags the tips of her fingers across the rough stubble his long night has left on his face. It's rare to see this look on him but, she has to admit, that when combined with his too-long locks, the scruff gives him a roguishly handsome appearance. She's about to tell him as much when Barry leans into the touch, nestling his jaw against the palm of his hand and soaking up the warmth of her skin.

"I need to shave," he mumbles, his eyes heavy lidded with the exhaustion she knows he's trying to stave off.

She leans across the counter, pressing up on her toes awkwardly for a little extra height, to place a tender kiss across the whiskers on the opposite side of his jaw. "I kind of like it."

Momentarily distracted, as she'd hoped, Barry's eyes snap back open, brow quirked. "Oh really?"

Caitlin laughs, full and light and warm, standing up and moving around the table while keeping his face cradled in one hand. "Yes really," she replies, pulling him up and guiding him over to the (surprisingly comfortable) couch they have along the lounge area. With a few careful tugs and gestures, she's sitting with Barry's head atop her thigh, running her fingers alternatively along his scruffy face and through his shaggy hair. "Get some rest, Barry. I'll wake you up in a few hours so you can get back to work."

He snuggles in closer, fights off his impending sleep long enough to mutter a sleepy, "love you," and is out.

Smiling, Caitlin wraps them up in the throw from the back of the couch and, even though he can't hear her, replies back: "love you too".

* * *

An established relationship fic, because we don't have enough of those!

Inspired by Grant's appearance in one of the Glee Project clips on his IMDB page. Major props and thanks to geodude96 on tumblr for the name and ttinycourageous for the alternative title of 'safe here in my arms'.

Next few fics will feature some babies! One's an established Snowbarry, the other contains some Olicity. They're both part of the continuity that includes 'For the Love of Horses', any preference on which comes out first?


	12. godmother

Godmother

* * *

They take the overnight train to Starling City after they get Diggle's text. Cisco remains behind with Dr. Wells to monitor for meta-human threats, better safe than sorry, and Iris makes them promise to send pictures as soon as they can (with baby Joe still sick, she's had to change her plans to go with). Caitlin reassures her they will and promises videos as well, before grabbing her already packed bag and meeting Barry in her living room (she's sure he's been waiting throughout the entirely of the phone call, practically vibrating with excitement).

He reaches for her bag, more to tame his nervous energy then chivalry (he knows better than most that Caitlin doesn't need it). "I take it Iris doesn't trust me to take pictures?" he teases. He'd popped over by the Thawne's on his way to her apartment, only to be given the same news Iris had called to share with Caitlin.

"I think she's just disappointed she's not coming and wants to cover all her bases," is the reply she gives as she shrugs on her coat and they move to leave. "But it could have something to do with the fact that you cried so much when Joey was born that she doesn't think you'll be able to manage." It had only been a few tears, she knows, but she can never resist giving him a hard time about it-she supposes she'd cry too, if her best friend gave birth and named her godparent.

"Funny Cait," always mature, he sticks his tongue out and grins.

They continue to chat and banter though the short walk to the train station, Barry still pulling both their bags along. Hands free, Caitlin pays for their tickets and rolls her eyes at his protests while they find a free set of seats away from the main crowd.

"Thanks for taking the train Barry." They're just starting the long ride, one she knows he could easily skip, ensuring he's there with the others in the waiting room as Felicity gives birth to her and Oliver's first child.

His facial expression turns puzzled by the comment, maybe a little hurt. "You know I'd never leave you behind Caitlin," and it's teetering on the edge of a level of sincerity they've both been tiptoeing for months now. In the years that have passed since they met, since he became the Flash, since Ronnie came back and Firestorm left, since Barry's confession to Iris and her eventual marriage to Eddie, since the birth of little Joseph Edward Thawne, since everything that has happened between those moments, they've been moving closer and closer into one another's gravity. Sometimes he thinks they're inevitable, sometimes he's terrified they aren't.

Iris berates Barry constantly about the situation, the way a lifelong friend who's tired of seeing their friend alone will do ("You love her Barry, you need to man up and do something about it" "She's everything you want and deserve, and you could be that for her, if you'd just tell her how you feel.") He's just so afraid of screwing this up, of losing the forever he's sure they could have, that he ignores her advice and they remain stagnant.

Before she can say a word in reply, Barry barrels on, covering the intensity of the comment: "besides, I'm okay with missing the messy part."

She laughs to hide the inkling of disappointment that cascades over her insides. (Iris spends plenty of time working Caitlin's side of the story too, enough that is makes her hopeful every time he says something like that, and horribly disappointed each time he covers it with something else). "How on earth can you process crime scenes, yet find babies being born disgusting, is beyond me Barry."

They lose themselves in light conversation and speculation about whether baby Queen will be a boy or a girl and what their name will be. Eventually, the long train ride gets to them and they fall asleep, side by side (and if Caitlin's head finds itself against Barry's shoulder well, he's not one to be bothered-not all saving the day involves beating bad guys.)

* * *

By the time they make it to Starling City, it's mid-morning and both their phones have been filled with "it's a girl!" messages from the various members of Team Arrow for the last hour. A follow up call from a very sleepy Diggle (who, like the others, had waited at the hospital all night) assures them the moment they step off the train that both mother and daughter are doing well and they'll be ready to meet their family from Central City as soon as they both get cleaned up.

Caitlin smiles softly into the phone, laughing at the way Barry presses close to hear without having to wait. "A little girl," she breathes as she hangs up, feeling light and hopeful. It's wonderful to live in a world filled with reassurances that everything works out, that those who deserve happiness get it.

"She's going to have Oliver wrapped around her finger," Barry jokes, smiling down at Caitlin, his chest tight and warm at the sound of her voice and the news they've been given. Oliver had once told him that guys like them did not get the girl-it gives him overwhelming hope to know that his friend was wrong in this case (now if only he can prove it for himself). "Since it sounds like we need to stall a little, breakfast?"

He doesn't wait for her reply (knows too well how poorly Caitlin functions in the morning without at least a cup of coffee), instead linking his arms with hers and pulling them both in the direction of a coffee shop down the road.

* * *

An hour later, full of coffee and muffins, they walk into the hospital, suitcases still in tow. Roy's there to greet them, reaching for their luggage as soon as he breaks from the hug (Caitlin) and handshake (Barry) they greet him with. "I'll drop these back at their place while you go up. They have to stay until tomorrow, just for monitoring, but Oliver said he'd give you guys his keys." He waves off their protests about their luggage, "It's not a big deal, have to head there anyway. Thea's planning on decorating for their homecoming tomorrow."

Because of course, Auntie Thea is going to host her niece's very first party at the absolute first opportunity. "We'll probably still be there when you get back. You know how Thea is." And they all laugh because yes, they certainly do.

Roy says his goodbyes and directs them to the right floor and room and then they head up.

The waiting room down the hall is empty when they arrive but full of signs of the long night's wait (coffee, snacks, the little rips of paper that were probably from an impatient Roy). "Everyone must be catching up on some sleep now," Caitlin mumbles, a fond smile on her face as she meets Barry's gaze. "Ready?"

He smiles, nods and they knock on the door to room 307, pushing it open when a familiar voice calls "come in".

Barry holds the door open and ushers Caitlin through, both pausing at the beautiful sight before them: Felicity in bed, looking sleepy but grinning wildly, Oliver holding a bundle of blankets and wearing an expression of awe Barry's not sure will ever entirely fade.

"You made it!" Felicity exclaims, reaching her arms out for a hug that Caitlin immediately gives her. Barry steps in next and they both pause to look over at the reason they're here.

"She's beautiful," Caitlin breathes, taking in the tiny, sleeping bundle, her little closed fists over the blanket, a wild array of blond hair sticking up every which way.

"Just like her mama," Barry adds, as totally enamored as he'd been when Joe was born.

Oliver nudges his arms out a bit, an invitation, and Caitlin moves around the bed, arms extended and carefully arranged to accept.

From the bed, looking on, Felicity is still grinning. "Meet Abigail Moira Queen. Abby, this is your Uncle Barry and your godmother Caitlin."

At the introduction, Caitlin pulls her arms back a bit, surprised. "Godmother?"

Oliver nods, solemn but smiling. "If that's alright with you? We decided a few months ago but wanted to wait until she was born to make it official."

Barry resists to the urge to tease Caitlin about the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes (though he stores it away for later), and instead crosses the room to stand behind her, curling his arm around her waist as she allows Oliver to carefully ease his daughter into her arms. The sight of her-glassy eyed, holding little Abby, dark curls spilling over her shoulder, turning to grin up at him, nestled against his side-takes over his every sense for a long, long moment. (Enough that he, like her, totally misses Felicity snapping a picture of the scene on her phone). Barry's overcome with the knowledge that he wants this, all of this, with her. He's had this thought before, fleeting and light as the brush of the wind, but now it's a clawing, breathing, living thing inside his chest that he's not sure he'll ever shake.

It only sharpens a few minutes later when her attention turns back to him, twisting in his arms to ask if he wants a turn with Abby. He does, so they swap positions but stay tangled together, cooing over the baby until Caitlin remembers she promised Iris pictures.

"I just sent a few," Felicity interjects, smiling a bit wickedly (which Caitlin does not understand), "but I'm sure she'll want some a little closer up." So Caitlin pulls out her phone and she and Barry take turns taking pictures, eventually giving Felicity her daughter back, while Oliver tells them about the delivery.

Though she tries to hide it behind her usual boisterousness, Felicity looks exhausted so they linger only a little longer before excusing themselves to head back to the house. They're at the hospital doors, Barry's arm slung over her shoulder, when Caitlin glances up at him. "Not one word about the tears Allen," to which he laughs.

"Of course not," he promises, leaning forward and pressing a daring kiss to the side of her head. He plows forward before she can respond, "I think your goddaughter's probably going to need a little more spoiling before she gets home. Want to hit up the toy store on the way to the house?"

* * *

Apparently I have babies on the brain. So I had two queued up, waiting to go and I decided that though I wrote this one second, I'd post it first because it takes place first in chronological order. So in the next couple of days, expect the other one which involves a some Snowbarry baby moments.

This features in the same continuity as for the love of horses, my unfinished Snowbarry wedding fic and, I suppose potentially, Tuesday morning coffee. There'll be more fics in this universe along the way, including my next one-I quite enjoy family fics.

Feedback is always appreciated!

Thanks, take care &amp; best wishes,

A.O.R.


	13. she takes after you

she takes after you

* * *

"I'm placing the blame for this entirely on you Barry Allen," a very uncomfortable Caitlin growls as she attempts to tug herself closer to her desk, failing spectacularly. Her stomach, heavily distended from pregnancy, doesn't allow her to hover over her keyboard quite the way she likes to and she's beyond frustrated. (All she wants to do is distract herself with work, and she can't even do that properly).

For his part, Barry only smiles at the sight of her, uncommonly proud of the visible evidence of their (hopefully) soon to be born child beneath her sweater. Feeling the effects of his wife's steely scowl, however, he does offer a reply, albeit not a very well thought out one: "It did take both of us to make her Cait." He knows it's the wrong reply the second it runs out of his mouth (too quick to take back, like most things he does) but the damage is done.

"I'm not talking about her existence Barry," she huffs, more than aware of that simple, biological fact (her degrees aside, it would be pretty difficult to forget her conception, the evening of their first anniversary). "I mean the fact that our daughter hasn't even been born yet and she's already inherited your habit of being late for everything." In the wake of her comment, he has the decency to look guilty, which gives Caitlin at least a small feeling of satisfaction.

Barry knows that the last few weeks have been rough on Caitlin. She's grown increasingly uncomfortable, and thus unable to sleep through the night, as the end of her pregnancy has approached. They're as ready as they can be for the arrival of Baby Allen, (when they'd learned they were expecting, Caitlin had created a preparation timeline that even he'd been able to follow mostly to the letter) but it appears that Baby Allen is not completely ready to arrive. Caitlin's due date passed five days ago and with each passing day, she's become more agitated. He knows that while it is partially due to the discomfort of late pregnancy (swollen ankles, abnormal hormones, sore back, and so much more), mostly it's worry that has been making her so irritable.

"What if something's wrong?" She asks a moment later, the annoyance she's been channeling draining immediately away to reveal the root cause.

He's at her side immediately, pulling her out of the desk chair and into his arms. The embrace would be awkward, curled over her expanded form as he is, except they've been slowly adjusting to these changes throughout her pregnancy, just as Caitlin's body has. Adjusting with changes, making a better today and tomorrow from the unexpected, it's what they do, it's how they found each other and fell in love. It's why he knows, even when she snips out her frustrations, that they're going to be just fine, as always. It's also why he knows that their baby is going to be just fine too.

"Cait," he soothes into her hair, pressing a kiss against her crown, "nothing is wrong. The doctor has checked everything out and we already have a c-section scheduled if she waits too much longer." Still keeping his wife wrapped in his embrace, he pulls back a bit to smile down at her, his grin teasing. "Besides, what would you expect from our little girl? She's already always late like me and wonderfully stubborn like you—she's just choosing her own pace."

It draws out the small but warm laugh he'd been hoping for. Caitlin tips her head up to meet his gaze and then presses forward to place a brief kiss to his lips. "I know you're right, but I also know all the things that could go wrong and sometimes I can't help thinking about them." He gets that too, knows that with all the chaos it's taken to get them here (plenty of it bad, even if he knows the good overwhelmingly outweighs it), it's sometimes easy to get caught up in the idea that something surely will go wrong (it always seems to in other aspects of their lives). Still, he has faith that this is their exception. His mouth is just parting to reply when she beats him to it, her mood still lightened by his earlier comment. "Let's just hope this baby inherits some of our better qualities too."

A much better topic of conversation, one they've spent many quiet, contented nights wondering about over the past nine months. Relieved with the change, Barry navigates them away from the desk they're standing next to and over to the couch, carefully helping to ease her down. They cuddle up together as he pretends to contemplate a proper reply. "Like my incredible board game skills?" He settled on, cheeky and teasing.

An eye roll accompanies her laughter, and the warmth that pulls out of his chest has him amending his comment immediately in favor of something more serious. "Your laugh," he decides with a firm nod. "I hope she has your laugh Caitlin. And I hope she's brilliant like you, and passionate about the future. I hope she's just as fiercely independent and unflinchingly strong." They're all the reasons that he had fallen in love with her, all the things that grow that love on a daily basis.

Nine months ago, the tears collecting quietly in the corners of her dark eyes would have alarmed him, now he knows it's just part of the pregnancy package. Still, he hates inspiring them, even when he knows they're tears of happiness and love. Snuggling in closer, he lays one warm hand across her stomach while the other rubs gentle trails down each cheek. Caitlin catches that hand in one of hers and kisses it. "All I want is for her to be healthy and happy and to love the way you do: with her whole heart."

"That's a trait she'll get from both of us Cait." It's a trait she rarely sees in herself, but certainly one of those that had drawn him to her in the first place. It's the reason why, just over eight months ago, when they had first discovered Caitlin was pregnant (not planned but certainly not unwelcome, after some initial shock and panic), he had been able to reassure her fears, without any doubt, that she would be an amazing mother. He knows Caitlin loves with a protective ferocity that has saved his life more times than he can count and that she does, and will, love their little one the same way. It's evident in all her interactions with their respective godchildren (his godson Joe Thawne and her goddaughter Abby Queen).

"If she ever decides to meet us," Caitlin grouses a few comfortable moments of quiet thought later, eyes skittering down to Barry's hand where, she knows, he has just felt his recalcitrant daughter kick (she loves the absent, dopey smile it brings to his face each time he feels it).

"She just already knows what I try to tell you every Sunday morning when you claim we have to get out of bed: you're too comfortable." To emphasize his point, Barry nuzzles his head against her neck and shoulder.

"Mmm," she mumbles, letting herself become distracted. "Well, there's no Sunday lunch at Joe's to get to today…and since baby here doesn't want to go anywhere either, I'm more then happy with a nap."

It might, after all, be the last quiet one they have for a long time (if they're lucky).

It still sometimes amazes Barry how little things with Caitlin—like cheering her up or distracting her fears or lazy afternoon couch naps—can feel as much like saving the world as stopping evil meta humans. If he weren't feeling so suddenly sleepy, it might occur to him that it has something to do with her being his world, but he's warm and pressed close to his wife, their little girl kicking occasionally at his hand and so sleep overtakes him before any such thoughts can.

* * *

Their nap is somewhat harshly, but very welcomely, ended three hours later by the beginning of Baby Allen's introduction into the world (and what Barry, surprisingly squeamish about childbirth despite his work and all his many injuries over the years, will refer to as the death of the Cozy Green Couch for a long time to come).

Despite his many protests to the contrary ("I won't go too fast Caitlin, I'm not stupid. I'll just be a little quicker then the car!"), they arrive at the hospital valet parking in fairly good time, even though the contractions are coming pretty quickly. ("Leave it to your daughter," Caitlin groans between ripples of pain, "to be five days late and then try to flash herself into the world at lightning speed.") But they make it inside, get checked in and settled into a room with relatively little issue.

Caitlin is barely in labor for four hours when, in a delivery room surrounded by doctors, her parents, her Aunt Iris and Grandpa Joe (and with Uncle Cisco, Uncle Eddie and cousin Joey in the waiting room and her family from Starling still driving), Mikaela Grace Allen is born.

After she's checked over, deemed perfectly healthy and cleaned up, Iris and Joe leave to join the rest of their little family in the waiting room (Iris with a camera full of pictures to show off to her husband, son and Cisco before sending them off to Felicity to share) and give the new parents a few minutes alone while little Kella eats.

When she latches on immediately, clearly hungry, Caitlin smiles up at Barry with tired but wonderfully soft eyes and can't help but laugh. "Hungry already—she really does take after you."

* * *

So here's our first introduction to Mikaela Allen from 'for the love of horses'. I actually wrote this one and posted it on tumblr before 'godmother' but wanted to post those two pieces chronologically here just for reason's sake.

I have no doubt I'll come back to this world in the future, just because I love the family fics and we don't have too many of them. I think I originally mentioned somewhere that Kella would have a little brother but looking at some old pieces of fic I started, I actually had her with a little sister and a little brother, so I imagine they'll make appearances at some point. If you have any family fic theme prompts, feel free to shoot them my way and I'll work on using them.

I've got a few other things finished and posted on tumblr that will get up here in the next week. I tend to post things to tumblr first, take a little time to get feedback there, then make changes as needed and typically add in a few things/reword a bit before posting here-just as clarification if you follow me there as well.

Thanks for all the feedback and positive thoughts guys!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	14. blind date

Blind Date

* * *

This was a tumblr prompt: captain-stydia-snowbarry asked: Hey, love your blog. I can't get enough snowbarry! Can you do one about them being set up on a blind date? Please and thank you!:)

* * *

Usually, he's the one running late. Okay, he is late but Iris is even more late, which is completely unusual given that Monday afternoon coffee has been a tradition they've built their schedules around since their freshmen year. His being late is habitual; her being late is an anomaly. Understandably, he's a little surprised and a little worried and is about to try calling when she bursts into the coffee shop. She doesn't even need to look to know where he's sitting (same table, same order, every Monday for the last two and a half years), just walks in and makes her way over positively beaming.

Upon reaching the table, she slings off her bag and drops down, grabbing her waiting drink and launching into what he expects is the explanation of her tardiness with absolutely no preamble: "Barry Allen, I have met your soul mate." She says it with the kind of confidence Iris seems to have been born with, no room for doubt or discussion (something he has found endearing and annoying in turns as they've grown up).

It's not at all what he's expecting and the surprise causes him to stutter over a sip of coffee. His best friend only laughs and smiles all the wider. "What?"

"The TA for my Contemporary Science discussion group, the class I just got out of—she's absolutely perfect for you." Iris had known it from the moment the young woman, no older than they were but apparently already a graduate student, introduced herself. The idea had only strengthened as the two-hour discussion group had stretched out. The fifteen students, led by said teaching assistant, had immediately dived into the concepts of the week that Dr. Wells had introduced in their first lecture just two hours prior and the more she talked, carefully prodding them in the right direction, the more certain Iris had become that she had to find a way for them to meet. Anyone who could explain the minutia of modern science issues to a group of journalism majors and actually get them engaged and eager to debate was clearly the woman of Barry Allen's dreams.

Having caught his breath again, Barry just shook his head. "You said the same thing about your roommate freshmen year and now she refuses to talk to either one of us." It isn't a memory either one of them enjoy re-living, as indicated by her dismissive wave.

"That was different," she barrels on, undeterred as always. "And so is she—she's a masters student in genetic engineering at twenty-one. She finished her bachelor's degree in two years and Dr. Wells himself invited her to come here and study with him." Which was not exactly all information she had shared with the group but Iris is particularly good at multi-tasking and investigative journalism and had had a pretty productive class. Well worth it, because she knows she's gotten Barry's attention now—Dr. Wells is, after all, one of Barry's personal heroes. "And she's pretty." Iris adds as an afterthought, knowing her interest in science would actually come before her appearance in her best friend's priority list (proof that some men still have their priorities straight).

"Okay, I've got to admit, I'm curious now." Just like always, Iris knows exactly how Barry thinks. She spends a good chunk of their free hour raving about her TA, knowing she's winning him over bit by bit, before she asks about his new classes and before they know it, they're both off for their afternoon lectures. Iris is confident though that she's left her best friend at least a little bit distracted by this 'perfect woman' and so now all she needs to do is find a way to get them to meet.

* * *

It takes Iris until midterms to put all the pieces into place, but she's determined it will be worth it. In that space of time, she only ever mentions her TA in the context of class, but she can tell that Barry's casual interest remains piqued. In those six weeks she puts all her investigative skills to work learning more about the grad student who coaches her cohort through the world of contemporary science issues and builds a friendly relationship with her (and if some of that learning is helped along via some well placed internet searches, well, she's just being thorough). They meet for an occasional drink, chat before class and have lunch twice. All in all, it's kind of nice, even without the ulterior motive. By the time Iris convinces her to go out for a post-midterm drink with a group of friends on Friday, she can't help but think she's made a pretty excellent friend however this semi-secret set up turns out.

Just like eight weeks earlier, she arrives a little late for coffee that Monday afternoon but is wearing a smile that immediately lets him know nothing is wrong. "Hey, sorry I'm late: we got caught up on talking points for our oral exams this week." It's only a partial lie, but she's pretty sure this whole set up will go a lot better if the parties involved aren't aware that it is a set up.

He just shrugs off the apology. "No worries, I'm always late so you've probably earned a few over the years." Their free hour passes quickly, as usual, amidst a discussion of exams and papers and how good it will feel for it all to finally be over. Barry is just complaining about how messy the chemistry lab is (he works for his advisor setting up for his introductory chem courses) and how glad he'll be when the last practicum is finished up on Friday afternoon when Iris spots the perfect in.

"Speaking of Friday," she edges, draining the last of her coffee casually as they start to gather their things. "Eddie and I were going to try and get a group together for drinks at Carmine, about seven o'clock?" She words it as a question knowing that Barry will agree with the same easy-going shrug as always.

He doesn't disappoint as he shoulders his bag, not the least bit suspicious. "Sure, it'll be nice to have a night out by then."

Barry might be the brilliant double major in chemistry and criminal justice, but when it comes to his best friend, he is thankfully terrible at catching her plots and thus finds nothing out of place in her overly bright grin and cheery reply. "Perfect! I'm sure I'll see you before then but good luck with your finals in case I'm too much of a study-zombie to say so later."

Iris has to take a deep breath to avoid skipping for joy as she heads in the opposite direction for a decidedly less than exciting exam in her media studies class. But even Dr. Kent's test can't dampen her spirits over the well-executed plan she has in place.

* * *

Seven o'clock on Friday night rolls around perfectly: it's an absolutely beautiful fall evening, Iris has snatched her favorite table at Carmine's and Barry is, miraculously, on time for once. She's busy shooting a text to her TA (_We're at the table in the back left, see you soon!) _as Eddie waves him over with a, "Hey Bar!"

"Hey Eddie, hey Iris," he shoots a curious look at their usual table, which seems small for the group outing Iris had described on Monday. "Who're we waiting for?"

"Some new friend of Iris's," the senior explains with a shrug, just as Iris begins waving.

"Caitlin, hey, over here!"

Barry's brow knits into a momentary look of confusion before he, like Eddie, turns to greet the newcomer—he knows that name from something, has heard Iris mention a Caitlin but can't immediately place it. As he turns, his eyes fall onto a beautiful brunette approaching and his stuttering brain jumpstarts on the sound of Iris repeating her name. Caitlin, her TA.

"Hey Iris," Caitlin greets, smiling warmly as the other woman slips out from her seat to give her a casual, quick hug. "Thanks for the invitation out, I feel like I've been locked in my office all week!"

"I'm glad you could make it," and here she steps away, motioning to the two men both standing in acknowledgement at the table. She points to Eddie first who extends a hand and wears his trademark easy smile, "this is my boyfriend Eddie," they shake across the table, "And this is my best friend Barry Allen."

Barry's hand meets hers easily, his smile stretching across his face and into his eyes. Okay, so she's absolutely as pretty as Iris had mentioned (more so, her casual comments do not do the woman standing before him—with her tumbling dark curls, warm brown eyes, and simple black dress—enough justice). "Nice to meet you Caitlin," and it's the most sincere thing he feels like he's ever said. Still a little caught by surprise, he tugs out the empty chair between himself and Iris and gestures for her to take it.

She does, drawing her hand slowly from their embrace. "Nice to meet you too," her smiling gaze lingers on Barry for a moment before it slides to the rest of the table, "both of you."

Iris sends Eddie to get the first round of drinks and once they've made it through the initial explanations and exchanges, the conversation flows easily. In fact, once Iris has mentioned Barry's major, she and Eddie become entirely unnecessary: the pair are discussing their particular fields of interest in such detail that it takes them fifteen minutes to notice that the couple hasn't returned from the bar yet.

"It's not that busy," Barry remarks, tearing his gaze from Caitlin to try and find their friends. She joins the search and, at the same time, they notice a grinning Iris and a fondly scoffing Eddie sneaking out the door. Seconds later both their phones vibrate with an identical message: _We felt a little like we were intruding so we decided to duck out. Have a great night you two :)._

They're both a bit red in the face when they look up but the embarrassment fades to laughter the moment they catch one another's gaze. "I think, Barry Allen, that we've been set up." As pretty and as brilliant as Iris had said, he can't help but think.

"Yeah," Barry replies, suddenly anxious and hoping she doesn't mind. Despite his initial doubts when Iris had first mentioned her TA all those weeks ago, he can't help but find himself agreeing with her assessment. "Sorry about that, I should have seen it coming. I'm pretty sure Iris has been plotting this since the semester started."

One hand fiddling with her nearly empty glass of red wine, Caitlin arches a brow in question. "Really? Why's that?"

Barry laughs a little nervously, downing the last of his beer. "She seems to think we're perfect for each other," his gaze tips low to observe the way the dregs of foam slide lazily down the inside curve of the pint glass, hesitant to catch her expression and the crumbling of what has so far been an excellent evening. In the last forty minutes or so, he's learned that Caitlin is clever, quick witted and absolutely passionate about science. She has a soft smile that spreads slowly across her lips and warms her laughter whenever he manages to say something that earns the sounds and he's already enjoying the challenge that is (and the victorious feeling that blooms in his chest whenever it happens).

Of course, that feeling is nothing compared to the one that flashes through his system when, rather then grab her coat at his confession, she nudges his pint glass with her wine glass, that smile still firmly fixed across her lips and the sound of her amusement coloring her words. "So far so good."

His eyes jump to hers, so hopeful she laughs in earnest as he moves to stand. "Another glass of wine then?"

"I'd like that. I want to hear more about that electrophoresis lab you started telling me about."

* * *

This time it's Barry who is overly late for Monday afternoon coffee and Iris who's on time (which isn't unusual but Iris is so eager for news that it's making her crazier than it otherwise would). She waits at their usual table with their usual order, sipping at her coffee and checking her phone, grinning when he finally arrives and shooting him with her best inquisitive look the second he's in range. "So?"

She hadn't heard from him all weekend, not that that was particularly unusual for post-exams. Barry slept like the dead after a week of late nights and early mornings and she's had a few deadlines for the school paper to catch up on.

"Thanks for ditching me Friday night," he means it to sound surly but he's grinning far too widely for her to call his bluff. Instead, she launches herself out of her chair and pulls him in for a hug. He relents immediately at the eager, curious look on her face. "Best blind date ever, even if I didn't know I was going on one." That part is a bit more accusatory but Iris ignores it completely.

"I told you she was perfect Barry Allen!" She spends their coffee time pestering him for the details she had known it would be unprofessional to try and get from Caitlin during class (but is totally going to get at lunch tomorrow).

She does get them, her TA flushing when she also confesses why Barry was late for coffee with her the day before. Iris isn't sure if it's the flowers, the dinner invitation or totally unprofessional kissing in her office that turns Caitlin Snow that particular shade of red but she teases Barry about it for weeks.

* * *

I had a blast writing this as Iris plotting and as a college AU. I might come back to this universe sometime, it was fun.

Hope you guys like it, as always, suggestions and prompts are welcome. I've got a couple of backlogged fics I'm hoping to post in the next week or so, I've been making lots of time for writing of late (aka, sleeping not nearly enough!)

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	15. with this ring, I thee (fake) wed

with this ring, I thee (fake) wed, aka undercover married couple

* * *

Anonymous asked: Prompt: SnowBarry undercover married couple.

* * *

Despite the hours that have passed since he first put it on, the weight on his left hand is still utterly foreign—the band circling his ring finger drawing his attention in every quiet moment that crops up. Just as he's done a dozen times since he'd slipped it on, the tip of his thumb edges along the band, throwing his thoughts into momentary chaos (he snaps back to attention quickly enough, unwilling to leave either of them unprepared and her unprotected).

Usually this sort of operation would fall far more under the Arrow's purview: fancy charity auction, crisp suits, shining gowns, sparkling champagne, but when Oliver Queen asks a favor (or rather Felicity Smoak asks on his behalf), he's not one to argue. The arm's dealer that Team Arrow is tracking has a particular interest in biological warfare, especially genetically altered chemical weapons, which is a little out of the realm of the Starling City team's expertise. Not willing to chance losing the man, Team Flash has been called in to assist.

Which is how he finds himself wearing a wildly expensive suit, his father's wedding band slipped around his finger, escorting the most brilliant woman in the room and pretending she's his wife. (They may be Barry Allen and Caitlin Snow to their friends waiting in the wings, but tonight they're Franklin and Rose James to the guest list and backstopping required to get them inside).

Despite the plethora of dangerous characters littering the room and being kept closely under watch both by Barry and their team outside, the evening has been fairly innocuous thus far. (So long as he doesn't count the moment where he'd nearly swallowed his own tongue when Caitlin, wearing a deep blue dress and his mother's wedding set, had appeared with Felicity to finish final pre-mission prep). It's certainly no hardship to be spending the night following in her shadow, listening to her chat animatedly about fake research, cementing their cover and working to attract the attention of their mark—the as of yet unidentified arm's dealer. Now and then, purely to keep up the pretense of a young, married couple, he convinces her onto the dance floor where they trade information and theories while wrapped close together.

They're in the midst of their fifth dance within the scope of two hours when Caitlin sighs, dropping her head against his shoulder—ostensibly to snuggle in close but really the better to not be overheard (and a little from exhaustion, if she's honest—it's not easy pretending to be someone else at every turn).

"I'm beginning to think he's not going to show up," she murmurs, the warmth of her breath bathing against his neck. He does his best to ignore the shock it sends up and down his spine, concentrating on her words themselves and moving them slowly across the dance floor in time with the music.

"Oliver's pretty sure he will," comes his reply a moment later, equally quiet as he pretends to press a kiss into her hairline, letting his fingers steer her away from a few oncoming couples with a gentle squeeze of pressure against her hips. Pulling away just a little, enough to peer teasingly down at her, Barry grins. "Unless you're already sick of me and want to go home?"

The liveliness of her laughter, quiet but bright against the contrasting roll of her eyes lets him know that she's still more then up for this mission (even if it does end up being a dud). "And deprive myself of another few hours of dancing, this dress and you following me around like a puppy, agreeing with everything I say for a change? You're not getting out of this one early, Barry."

It's a few thousand miles opposite his intentions—he's actually kind of enjoying himself. Even if it's for completely horrible reasons, it's nice to be spending an entire evening discussing science with people who not only understand everything they're talking about but who are regarding Caitlin with every ounce of the respect her brilliance deserves. He knows that sometimes she feels a little unappreciated on the team, especially when her near-genius level skills are being wasted on sewing him back together, so it's nice to give her this night. Even if this night is actually about attracting some terrorist supplying maniac.

(He supposes, if he were to think about it too closely, it's probably a good metaphor for marriage. He also supposes that if that's the connection he's getting out of all this, this is probably the closest he'll ever get to married.)

"Me, trying to get out of dancing with my lovely wife?" He scoffs, a little louder, grinning widely. "Rose, love, I wouldn't dream of it." The couple closing in on their left shake their heads fondly at his exuberance, perhaps remembering their own early years. They're quiet a few more moments while the song tapers off. "C'mon Cait," quieter now, his words a ghost along her ear, "let's find you some champagne and let you keep working on charming your way through the room."

Untangled, he takes her left hand in his right and just like he's been doing all night with his own, immediately begins to play at the band he finds on her fourth finger—an action that causes Caitlin's heart rate to tick up just slightly and the barest hint of a flush to settle against her cheekbones. They spot a likely target and, drinks in hand, Barry strikes up the conversation before turning it over to Caitlin, fiddling with her ring all the while.

* * *

It's very nearly midnight, and he feels like they've spoken at length with every person at the auction, by the time their mark seems to take notice and make contact. They exchange pleasantries and, in a corner of the room, offers. The conversation ends with agreeable handshakes and the careful planting of a tracking device for Oliver. Not twenty minutes later they get the all clear and, breathing a sigh of relief, make their exits.

Team Arrow is preoccupied with their end of the evening, so Barry and Caitlin decide to make the walk back to Felicity's apartment, where they're crashing for the evening—a nice way to blow off the adrenaline of a successful mission (for Caitlin at least, Barry will probably need a good run once they make it back).

"I'm not sure I like undercover," Caitlin comments a block into their trek.

Barry, once again distracted, looks up and considers the comment for a moment, his gaze slanting sideways to meter her expression. "Me neither but you were pretty great at it."

Any other woman might flush under the compliment, Caitlin isn't any other woman: she's far too confident in her own abilities, so she comments with a sincere "you too" instead.

"Helps to have a good partner," comes his quick reply, knocking his shoulder against hers. "Seriously, Cait, you were brilliant as usual back there. Definitely the easiest fake marriage I've ever been in: I didn't have to pretend to be in awe even once."

"I'm still not letting you Flash us back to Central City Barry," Caitlin deadpans with a laugh, sensing he's angling for something. He's actually not, has completely forgotten that discussion over the course of the evening's events, but the comment does make him grin nonetheless.

"Aww, come on Caitlin!" He settles for flashing them the last few blocks to Felicity's apartment, grabbing her up with both hands, their rings pressing together as she groans in only partially feigned annoyance. He watches her fix her hair on the front stairs fondly, smiling at the way the porch light catches on the diamond on her hand, the weight of own ring feeling suddenly comfortable rather than foreign for the first time all evening.

Someday.

* * *

I seem to like to fixate on random details in stories-rings happened to win that honor in this story.

As always, feedback is more than appreciated and I hope you enjoyed. I'm trying to decide whether I should split off into some other series or keep everything here, most specifically if I should keep a separate story for fics that tag to specific episodes. Any thoughts there?

Take care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	16. in the morning light

in the morning light

* * *

Sunlight is streaming through the miniscule gaps in the blinds, falling in lined patterns against the lids of her still closed eyes when Caitlin wakes up. Warm, curled up and content, she ignores the gathering daylight, pulling up her blankets and snuggling more deeply against the mattress. She's never been one for sleeping in before but there's something about Barry's bed—with its soft, flannel sheets and heavy comforter—that are making it oh-so tempting to spend the whole day in bed. Still a little drowsy, she mentions as much to him when she notices him stirring.

His laugh draws her eyes open, heavy and sleepy but warm and rumbling against her back. "And here I thought maybe it was me," he teases, trying to sound put out but missing the mark completely (totally unable to hide the happiness and amusement in his words). Knowing the game is lost, he stretches a little, lets the arm around her waist pull her closer and presses a kiss to the back of her neck.

"You certainly don't hurt," Caitlin amends, twisting around to her other side so she can take a good look at him. She catches his eyes first, as bright in the morning as ever, and the exchanged gaze drags an easy smile across her lips before she devotes a few moments to appreciating the way the rest of him is sprawled out: one bare shoulder and arm stretched over the blankets, the other still hidden and tracing absent patterns along her hip and side, where it has snuck below her tank top. The space between them, small though it is, provides a view of his torso, splattered with freckles and lean, well defined musculature that she has spent the last few months joyfully memorizing. All in all, a pretty picture to wake to: Barry Allen all covered in nothing but navy blankets and sunbeams.

(He doesn't verbalize it, but the trail of his fingers over her skin, the way his free hand lifts to carefully draw a few curls behind her ears and the slow, sleepy smile spreading across his face say it anyway: he feels exactly the same.)

Realizing they've been silent for a while, caught up in drinking each other in (amazing how they do that still, so far from the first time), Barry whispers a "good morning" and leans forward for a proper kiss.

Caitlin doesn't hesitate to meet him, letting her own fingers move to trail through his mussed up hair. When they part, she's still smiling as she trades back her own "good morning" and scoots across the distance that separates them. Eager to help as always, Barry hooks his leg around her bent knee and tugs her forward—a bit too eagerly, for they end up in a laughing tangle of limbs a second later, Caitlin landing and knocking the air out of Barry's lungs. Thankfully, he's in no hurry to rectify his mistake, tugging her even more securely atop him so that Caitlin has to prop herself on her elbows to meet his gaze.

"What was that about spending the whole day in bed?" He asks from below, surrounding by a curtain of dark curls and thoroughly enjoying the press of her weight against his body and the way the soft material of her pajama pants rubs against his bare legs.

Still laughing (and thus squirming in the most delightfully distracting way), Caitlin rolls her eyes down at him. "Barry Allen, you are incorrigible," but there's no hint of bite in the words and even if there had been, the kiss she presses to his lips to punctuate the statement would entirely negate it.

"That does not sound anything like a no," he counters, following her retreating lips, one hand burying itself into her curls to hold the kiss. His tongue sweeps against her lips and, like the best kind of habit, her mouth opens automatically to invite him in.

When they part, both a little breathless, his hand still in her hair, legs even more tangled, and chests heaving, he takes another long moment to study the woman above him. She's looking delightfully disheveled, both from the kiss and a long, deep night's sleep. He loves this look on her, relaxed and glowing in the morning light, his and no one else's (just as he knows he is hers and no one else's).

He also loves that even when she is utterly content, feeling thoroughly kissed (at least, he assumes she feels that way: he certainly does) and peaceful, she is still characteristically difficult and doesn't let him get away with anything because she replies with a very definite "It certainly wasn't a yes either" as though the kiss has not the least distracted her (well, maybe a little, her comment is a little broken by her breathless grin).

To an outsider, it might sound a little bitchy but Caitlin knows that Barry will take it for exactly what it's mean to be: a challenge.

"Oh," and he (equally breathtaking with the morning light casting shadows over his cocky, playful grin) takes the bait without hesitation. "I bet I can make it a yes."

In a flash Barry has used his speed and corresponding momentum to flip their positions: Caitlin's back hits the mattress with a puff of air and she lays laughingly sprawled beneath a very wide-awake Barry. (And if he preens a bit at catching her off guard, well, who can blame him?) "Give it your best shot."

(Eventually Barry's growing stomach does draw them from the covers, stepping into a room stretched with midday shadows but they don't stray away for too long.)

* * *

Established snowberry fluff because, you know, it had to happen!

Wanted to dedicate this one to princessandthelabrador on tumblr who is wonderfully sweet and always so nice and positive — thanks dear, your comments always make me smile.

Always glad for new prompts and ideas, just drop me a comment and I'll get to it as soon as I can!


	17. the weight of grief

the weight of grief

* * *

They're in the middle of a speed training exercise on the treadmill when Caitlin's phone rings. Given that Barry is hooked up to all the necessary monitors and Cisco and Dr. Wells are there, she heads back into the main lab to answer. She's especially glad she's done so when she notices it's Mr. Diggle calling (he's not exactly one to call just for a chat, so she assumes Team Arrow must be in need of some sort of assistance and Felicity is too busy to call herself).

She answers brightly—for some reason, she quite likes John Diggle, far more than the relative briefness of their interactions should merit. Caitlin can't imagine what he must feel like, dropped into a world of meta-humans and vigilantes, the oldest person on his team and yet for that age and experience, still the one most out of his element. Even faced with those facts, he never lets it stop him from doing what needs to be done. He's a sincerely good person, steady and wise and she feels a sort of kindred spirit as the patient, voices of reason for their perspective groups.

The voice that greets her isn't one she expects. It's Mr. Diggle, certainly, but his tone is solemn, a little choked and wrung with grief. Caitlin knows something is horribly wrong in the space of two syllables but she's still not expecting the words that fall from his mouth; steady as ever but with a weight that presses at her heart from hundreds of miles away. ("Caitlin, Oliver's dead.")

She gasps sharply and doesn't notice how it catches the attention of the three men in the other room, just listens with a rapidly clouding face and increasingly unsteady hands as he explains what they know. She's silent long enough that Cisco and Dr. Wells turn their attention away, but Barry continues to watch her back while running. Diggle tells her briefly about the League, about Thea, about Oliver's sacrifice and the long days of waiting. She wishes they would have known, but what could they have done? They'd been preoccupied with their own villains, her more then the others, and how would they have helped? He tells her about Malcolm Merlyn, and the sword and the reality staring them in the face. Finally, he tells her about Felicity, just as she opens her mouth to ask, and whatever calm she's been holding onto absolutely shatters. She knows what it is to be Felicity, knows exactly what she's going through and what she must be feeling. Caitlin's heart breaks for a second time in so few minutes.

She's been silent most of the conversation, there's no more she can really say than she can do, but she knows there has to be something. With a heavy swallow, she finally comments as John is finishing his explanation. "We'll be there as soon as we can Mr. Diggle." It's proof of the severity of all that's happened that he, hundreds of miles away in Starling City, just agrees and says thank you. (John Diggle knows that in these situations, the only thing that anyone can do is be there and hope that sharing the grief eases the weight of it, if only for a moment).

He says good-bye and Caitlin, still in shock and hands still trembling with the news, drops her phone when she tries to end her side of the call. Barry, having watched the tension seep into her frame throughout the conversation, notices the slip and is there long before it hits the floor. In the blink of an eye, he's standing in front of her, phone in hand, and wearing the same worried expression he'd had through the length of her kidnapping.

"What's going on?" He asks, raising his free hand to grasp her shoulder soothingly.

Caitlin Snow, who had told him not to come for her when kidnapped by two madmen, who had survived being strapped to a bomb not even a week before, who had threatened said kidnappers knowing they had no problems killing her, who had done all that without a single tear, breaks down. She has no idea if she tosses herself into Barry's arms or if he draws her into them but the next thing she knows she's crying against the navy fabric of his S.T.A.R. Labs sweatshirt and the fingers of his left hand are trailing through her curls soothingly. "Hey, hey it's okay, what's up Caitlin?"

By now Cisco and Dr. Wells are lingering in the doorway, looking as worried as he feels. They shoot questioning looks across the lab but Barry's too preoccupied with trying to calm the uncharacteristically shaken woman in his arms to notice.

Drawing in a deep, clogged breath, she pulls away as far as Barry's arms will let her. Caitlin assumes he will release her but he doesn't and she's a little grateful, suspecting she'll need to catch him rather soon. She feels a little like it's just the two of them right now, the way she's drowning in unexpected grief and the way she knows he will be shortly, but she also knows it isn't and so speaks loudly enough that the news doesn't need to be repeated.

"That was John Diggle. Oliver left to fight Ra's al Ghul," she falters a bit, her gaze locked on Barry's, watching the recognition cloud in the green. This is going to destroy him. Oliver is a friend, a mentor, a hero to him and he's lost too much. They've all lost too damn much. "He left four days ago, he hasn't come back. Barry," another, briefer pause, "he's dead."

She expects him to counter, to argue, to collapse but he doesn't: he pulls her close again, shaking, and buries his face in her neck, muttering an "oh God no" that she feels, and echoes, in her soul. Caitlin's too focused on Barry to notice the color drain from the faces of the other two, to see Cisco fall down the floor and bury his head in his hands, and Dr. Wells close his eyes and sigh.

They stay like that for a long, long time: grief stitched on each of their expressions, processing something that doesn't feel like it can possibly be true. Caitlin and Barry hold each other up until eventually, with one last squeeze and a whispered 'thank you', he draws away. "I have to go to Starling City," Barry announces, Dr. Wells nods and Cisco regains his feet, silently heading for the storage locker where they keep the calorie bars—it's a long run and he'll need to stop and refuel.

"I'm going with you." They all turn to her, but nobody argues. "I'm not leaving Felicity to deal with this alone," and in the gaze she shares with Barry there is a heavily implied 'or you', which he accepts with a smile that is weary and grateful.

"You're going to need to wear the spare suit if we're going to go that far."

It takes far longer to get ready to leave for Starling City than it does to get ready to leave for a fight. Caitlin awkwardly slides into the spare Flash suit—it's not made at all for her, but thankfully she's smaller than Barry is so it will work. He flashes them back to both their homes and they fill the small, speed-resistant bag Cisco had made (with these kinds of trips in mind, if not the impetus for such a journey) with some essentials to get them through the next few days. After Barry briefly explains to Joe what's going on, they leave.

It's a long journey full of starts and stops, made longer for the emotions that dog their every move and interaction, but they know when they arrive they're exactly where they need to be.

* * *

My take on the breaking of the news of Oliver's 'death' to the Central City crew with a Snowbarry theme. I kind of want to expand to them talking through their grief at a later point during their visit, but I felt it would be out of time with this fic so that will be a follow up, even though I realize this is null and void given current circumstances (I still like to think that they would have found out about all this, even if it wasn't shown).

Also, love to Cisco (&amp; Wells) who I would definitely have coming on the train after the fact but I think in those first moments, Barry and Caitlin are the ones that need to be there—Barry has more reason to be tied to Team Arrow and Caitlin would understand what Felicity is feeling more than anyone, and thus feel she needs to be there.

So, thoughts, comments and ideas are always appreciated.

Best Wishes &amp; Take Care,

A.O.R.


	18. taking care of me

Tumblr prompt: snowbarry-jennoist asked: Hey! I was wondering if u could do a snowbarry fic about Caitlin getting drunk and Barry being by her side and maybe something between them might happen? Sorta like how she is going to in the upcoming episode. :)

* * *

taking care of me

* * *

"Alright there champ, easy does it," Barry murmurs, coaching an incredibly unhelpful Caitlin Snow through the front entryway of her house.

"Please tell me we're almost there." She can't decide if she's more tired or dizzy but either way, she's way past ready to fall into her bed. The walk home from the bar they've been drinking at since dinner time hasn't helped clear her head in the least, just made her all the more tired and Barry had refused to flash them back, worried the speed would aggravate the light headedness that's been tipping her all over the place the last hour.

Frankly, she blames Roy and Cisco. Cisco had been the one to suggest a night out after they'd caught the meta-human that had brought Team Arrow to Central City and Roy had been the one to goad the competitive Dr. Snow into shaking bar dice. She really needs to learn that any game that involves more chance than real skill is one she is never going to win. In fact, she can vaguely recall arguing that, too many hours ago, but the protest had fallen on deaf ears and the taunts had continued (which meant she had continued to shake and lose for another two hours).

At least Barry has been immensely patient all night, standing pressed behind her for balance and support at the bar (her shoulder blades anchored securely against his chest) and then helping her navigate the trip home when they'd all gone their separate ways. "You bet, just one flight of stairs, some Tylenol and your pj's between you and a nice, long sleep."

"Not too long," Caitlin protests, frowning in thought as she leans against the door, letting Barry remove the boots she's wearing. It is a testament to her level of intoxication that the feeling of his fingers trailing down her calves causes absolutely no reaction—it takes too much concentration to stay upright for anything else to register. "We have brunch tomorrow—today," she realizes with a bit of a groan, peering blearily at the clock on her living room wall. She hears the thud of her last boot on the tray and pitches herself back upright.

Two feet solidly on the ground again, she watches as Barry toes off his own sneakers, his head nodding along in agreement. Bless him, even distracted by their conversation and making sure she doesn't tip too far forward, he manages to leave his shoes where they belong. "Not until eleven though, right down by their hotel."

"Still too soon."

His laugh rumbles against her arm as Barry forgoes attempting to lead Caitlin up the stairs and instead swings her into his arms to carry her. "Let's not waste time getting you to bed then," he grins down at the expression dancing through her dark eyes: half indignant at being carried, half grateful to leave the stairs to him: tired is beginning to win out over dizzy—it's been a long few days for everyone (and she'd wisely stopped drinking a little before one so the alcohol's effects are thankfully beginning to fade).

It doesn't take too long for Barry to make it up the stairs, past the office and into Caitlin's bedroom. Between his own familiarity and the tendrils of light from the stairway, he easily reaches for the second light switch, which triggers the softer glow of the bedside lamps. There's no need for preamble (they've run this routine a time or two before) and so he deposits her gently on the bed. It takes only a few quick seconds for Barry to exchange the dress she'd put on this morning for her favorite pair of pajamas, which are neatly folded a top her hamper, ready for use.

Caitlin just murmurs a thank you and snuggles into the soft cotton. "Teeth, Tylenol and bed?" She questions absently, more running through her mental checklist than asking but Barry gives a vague sound of agreement as he riffles through the hamper anyway. Her head a little clearer with the passage of time and the relief of impending rest, Caitlin rolls her eyes and shakes her head fondly as she passes him. "Left top drawer."

After a quick journey through the medicine cabinet, she swallows down a glass of water and two little red and white pills, and begins to scrub her teeth free of the detritus of a long day at work. She can hear Barry rummaging through her bedroom, humming along to One Day More from Les Mis and it brings a slow, contented smile to her lips. Caitlin centers herself on the those background sounds, the way they mix easily with the trickle of water, the tap of her toothbrush, the pull of a make up removing wipe against her face and bring everything back into clearer focus.

By the time she's finished and ready for bed, Barry has already beaten her there, having found his own flannel pajama bottoms and favorite S.T.A.R. labs t-shirt exactly where they belong, in the top left drawer.

Smiling softly, she takes a quick glance around the room to find everything is already exactly like she likes it. Their phones are plugged in and charging, a quiet tune playing from one of them. Both sets of their clothes are stowed in the hamper (one cuff of his jeans is hanging out though because Barry will always be Barry) and there's a bottle of water from the kitchen sitting on her side of the bed. The little light on her alarm click is glowing, so it's set to go off in a few hours and give them time to get ready to meet everyone. Best of all is Barry, stretched out on the right side of her king sized mattress, smiling just as softly back at her; the covers flipped open to invite her in.

She doesn't hesitate to join him, snuggling in closer and muttering a "thanks for taking care of me tonight" as she does so.

When he replies back, "thanks for taking care of me every day" she just presses a kiss against his collar bone and lets herself drift off.

* * *

So this was written before last week's episode and doesn't completely follow the request but once I got the established snowbarry part in my mind, I couldn't shake it. Posted a little out of order in my list because .Awesome asked for an established fic and I figured a little fluff was in order after 'the weight of grief'. Expect the follow up to that one next though, should be up in a day or so.

As always, comments and ideas welcome. I've got a list of prompts I promise I am working through, trying to write a fic a day until the end of the month. Also, if you're a writer, we've got a Valentine's Snowbarry challenge going on over on tumblr. Just search the tag SBvalenfic and you'll find the info. I'll gladly take submissions that are on here &amp; as well as tumblr, you can just message me the info here.


	19. lays heavy on its survivors

Follow up to chapter 17, the weight of grief.

* * *

lays heavy on its survivors

* * *

It's a quiet moment in the chaos (and darkness) of life without Oliver—Team Flash's last night in Starling City is finally upon them, they've reached the point where they know that Central City has been too long without protection, and the four of them are taking the train home in the morning. But it's so hard to leave, to abandon their friends in this lingering uncertainty: there is no body to bury, no human form to say goodbye to, and thus the tiniest bit of hope burns in each of them, threatening to be stamped out and abandoned if they accept what seems to float in front of their faces. It's a hard path to take, acceptance, but it seems the only one left for them.

They can't have a proper funeral, so instead they gather at the foundry to drink and share stories and grieve together. It's an evening that is equal parts laughter and tears, everyone assembled uncertain of which direction is appropriate to tip towards.

Eventually, the weight of the decision is too much—Barry needs a break. Moving quietly through a very absent-minded assemblage of friends, he sneaks outside the foundry, finding solace is the dismal silence of the alley beyond. He needs a walk, a slow paced pacing of the city, to clear his mind and shake off the heavy weight of grief that dodges his footprints. He wants, like so many of the others, to live in a world of happy memories, rather than sad ones but he can't with the way the latter clings at his heels and refuses to let go.

Turning up the collar of his jacket against the winter chill, he's three steps toward the entrance of the alleyway when the door behind him opens again.

"Hey," calls a tentative voice he'd recognize anywhere.

She sounds as weary and bereft as he feels: the cadence of her single syllable chases away the twinge of annoyance that has sprung up at the idea of his interrupted solitude. Painting on a smile, small but surprisingly sincere, he angles back toward her. "Hey Caitlin."

"Mind some company?" She asks, nodding her head once in the direction of the street, easily picking up on his intentions (because of course she does, she's Caitlin and somehow she's come to know almost everything about him just a few short months).

Barry considers her question for a few still-constricted beats of his heart and realizes, with a little surprise, that he actually doesn't mind. Moments ago he'd wanted nothing more than to be alone, but the idea of Caitlin's company warms away a bit of the ice that has been incasing his insides ever since she took Digg's call. "I'd like that actually," he tells her and finds that to be completely true. Time with Caitlin has a way of easing his aches—physical, mental and emotional—and he wonders in the span between his answer and her answering, likewise small but very much present, smile why he didn't think to invite her in the first place.

Already in her coat (so sure he wouldn't refuse her, or perhaps just hopeful), Caitlin strides forward and they leave the alley, walking side by side down the street, silent in their thoughts.

It's been a hard few days here. When they had first arrived at the Foundry, it had been to find all of Team Arrow (because even without Oliver, they are still Team Arrow) already there, heavy and heartbroken. That hasn't changed in such a short span of time, not entirely, but between long meals and longer conversations, sharing memories and wallowing in grief, it's eased a bit. They'd made it through all of dinner together tonight without Felicity crying or Roy closing himself off and leaving abruptly. At one point Cisco (who had arrived on the train with Dr. Wells the day after Barry and Caitlin had), even made everyone laugh and it was like a wall had shattered. Since then, their night has been filled with as many laughing memories as hard ones.

"I'm not sure I'm ready to go back yet," Barry confesses when they've made it nearly a block away. It's abrupt, they've been nothing but silent since they left the alley, but he knows it won't bother Caitlin.

Sure enough, she gives him a sidelong glance and then just nods. "I know what you mean, it feels too early to just leave everyone." The sigh in her words tumbles out like a blizzard, slow at first and then heaving, the decision to leave has clearly been weighing on her as well—Barry feels relieved. "But there's nothing more we can do and it will never feel like the right time."

The ghosts of previous losses drain her words of their usual vibrant certainty and remind him instantly how fundamentally they understand one another. Oliver's apparent death has been hard on everyone, but loss affects them in such a different way then the others—it's a link to past memories that stack themselves upon the layers of fresh sadness like an uninvited houseguest. He knows it's true for both of them, but doubly so for Caitlin, who has spent the last four days hovering carefully within Felicity's gravity, wearing her own lost love on her sleeve like an invitation to Felicity to cry on her shoulder. (Which she's done, and Barry's probably the only one who sees how thoroughly it destroys Caitlin to relieve these memories while sorting through her own grief).

"You're right," he manages, momentarily choked up by the thought: his admiration and affection for her only increasing as it truly occurs to him how much she does for the people she cares about. Suddenly desperate with a desire to see her smile, he nudges her shoulder against hers, flashing a grin and adding, "as usual" to his statement.

Caitlin catches his playful done, feels the gears shift and she's so very, very grateful that she bursts into a sharp, and so foreign of late, bark of laughter, taken completely by surprise. "Now why is that usually so hard for you to admit?" She teases right back, burying herself in the way that her friendship with Barry always manages to ease the exhaustive burdens of grief and guilt. Joking along with him feels like the breath of air she's been gasping for all week.

"I always admit it," he counters, smiling down at her even while they keep treading forward through the streets of Starling. "Just never out loud."

"So difficult." And this time it's her shoulder that finds his, a good portion of her weight against it, but rather than shove, she leans in and stays there, taking comfort from the contact.

He's not sure who the physical connection benefits more, only knows that this is the least he's hurt in days and so he wraps an arm around Caitlin's shoulders and tugs her just a bit closer. "All part of my charm," Barry reassures, his voice gone soft and thoughtful again but still a little lighter than it's been in days. This is what they do for each other, share the weight of their burdens across two sets of shoulders, so that they can face whatever lies ahead.

Wrapped in the comfort of touch, a smile plays on Caitlin's lips and she feels hope for the first time since her phone rang and the name John Diggle heralded in a new world for them all. Nothing's solved or fixed or better, Oliver is still gone and they all still miss him and it still hurts to think about, but she knows something about grief she didn't the first time she lost someone she'd never imagined living without: it is survivable if you don't face it alone. So she lays her head on Barry's shoulder and they wander a while more until their chests feel looser and their breaths come easier and they're ready to help carry the weight of everyone's sadness again. They turn back together and even when they arrive back at the Foundry, they continue to lean against each other the way they've been doing for months—emotionally, mentally, physically.

* * *

I just wanted to continue to examine some of Team Flash's reactions to Oliver's 'death', as it wasn't done in the show and I thought that given Caitlin and Barry's experiences with loss, it would be interesting to watch them react to it together.


	20. what you mean to me

what you mean to me

* * *

Like most things in the lives of vigilantes and superheroes, it takes a ridiculously long time for John and Lyla to plan and actually have their wedding—something always manages to come up. The date that ends up sticking (after near deaths, foiled villainous plots, head-spinning altercations with time travel and a slew of everyday bad guys) is just a few weeks shy of Sara Diggle's third birthday, which is completely okay because Sara looks so cute in her flower girl dress that it makes up for the frustrations that have gone with the planning (and rescheduling) process.

To absolutely everyone's surprise, the two weeks leading up to the wedding and the day of end up being almost completely calm, as if evil itself has decided to just let them get on with it already.

The guest list is relatively small—the few relatives they both have left, about two dozen old military friends, a handful of ARGUS coworkers Lyla actually likes and of course, the extended Arrow family (as Felicity likes to call it) which includes the entirety of the Central City crew. Oliver stands up as John's best man, with Roy and his old army buddy, Tucker, rounding out the groomsmen. Lyla's little sister, college roommate and Felicity make up the bridal party while A.J. holds the rings and stands with Sara, smiling proudly for his Uncle John's big day.

They get married in the backyard of the reclaimed Queen mansion, under a tent strung with lights that will keep the party going long after the bright summer sunshine fades behind the horizon. Everything is simple, draped in white, silver and black and is all the more beautiful for the simplicity and the happiness that exudes from the couple.

It's the sort of perfect day that makes you believe in the impossible (or so Barry will say later, only to be teased mercilessly by Cisco and Roy).

Everyone is still a little surprised by how flawlessly the day has gone so far, when the DJ announces the official entrance of the wedding party. Sitting at a table sipping champagne, Barry bursts out in laughter as Oliver Queen robot dances his way onto the makeshift dance floor at the front of the tent. "Please tell me that this is being recorded," he comments to Thea, who is sitting on Cisco's right watching her boyfriend strut his way forward as well.

"Every second," she laughs, wondering how effective the Arrow and Arsenal would be fighting crime if the bad guys could see this. Felicity, at least, seems to have some sense of rhythm and she follows the maid of honor up.

From Barry's right, also laughing but doing her very best to muffle it, Caitlin speaks up, teasing. "I don't remember you looking much more coordinated at Iris and Eddie's wedding Barry," which definitely gets his attention and stops his chuckles instantly. Cisco hoots out an agreement and then assures Thea that they too have video evidence somewhere.

The grand march ends and the focus shifts to the couple's first song—the wedding party falls back for the moment, standing at the edges of the dance floor as the other guests move forward to watch the happy couple sway. Felicity takes Sara from Laurel, who had been holding the toddler through the previous song, and the two women smile and chat and amuse the little girl while Oliver hovers nearby. Thea winds through the small assemblage to find Roy and Cisco becomes distracted by flirting with Lyla's younger sister, Amy.

As the first round of the chorus is winding down, the DJ invites everyone to join Mr. John and Mrs. Lyla Diggle in their first dance. Laurel snatches back her sister's namesake, so that Oliver and Felicity can join in, swaying dramatically with the laughing little girl. Thea tugs an un-protesting Roy to the floor and Cisco manages to get a dance with a giggling Amy.

Barry watches all this for a quick moment before turning to the woman next to him, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. Like always, Caitlin looks absolutely beautiful. He's known this for years but the thought has been taking an increasing hold in his mind for a while now, kick started, perhaps, by how she'd looked standing on the other side of the aisle at Iris's wedding this past winter. Right now she's wearing a pale blue and white dress, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in soft curls and a smile that is so warm that it makes his heart stutter in his chest.

_Oh if falling's how you feel and perfect's what you see, then I'd be what you mean to me._

The lyrics of John and Lyla's wedding song seem insanely appropriate in this moment, especially when Caitlin feels his gaze on her and drags her own attention from the slowly filling dance floor to Barry. Her brow quirks in a question, head titling ever so slightly to one side. "Everything okay?"

He just grins that grin that, increasingly, only Caitlin seems to be able to bring out and extends a hand. "Everything's perfect," he's utterly sincere. It's taken a long few years to get them to this point, to a place where he's not in love with Iris (is ridiculously happy for her and Eddie—is so glad that they've all become such a close group of friends that Caitlin had stood up in the wedding and Cisco had been an usher), to a place where she's not still mourning the loss of Ronnie and the leaving of Firestorm, to a place where he sometimes glimpses a future where they're together and so very, very happy, to a place where he thinks they both know they're hovering on the precipice of something more, but he wouldn't trade the progress for anything—every long moment, setback and stumble are completely worth it. "Dance with me?" He asks, as those thoughts flash through his mind fast as lightning.

The way she looks at him, eyes bright and smiling softly, and extends her hand without a moment's hesitation, squeezes his chest in the best way. They thread themselves amongst friends, family and strangers and settle into a swaying rhythm with the song, Barry's fingers sprawl across Caitlin's hips, and hers splay along his shoulder blades. It's a country song, one he only knows because they've been listening to it seemingly on repeat the last few days as they've gotten everything ready for the wedding (John hadn't wanted to look like a fool dancing off-beat) but it's become so familiar that he finds himself singing quietly along as he gazes down at Caitlin.

"_If I could be the fire in your firefly, the cool in the rain, the spark in your eye, the answer to your prayer and the faith that sets you free, then I'd be what you mean to me."_

Caitlin holds his gaze for a long moment, enjoying the quiet of his voice moving over the singers. "It's a pretty song," she murmurs after a few beats, as the chorus picks up again. Barry's hands move to pull her a little closer, closing around her waist, which cause hers to automatically slide around his neck, the tips of her fingers playing with the hair at his nape.

"It is," he agrees, relishing in how easy and comfortable it feels to share space with her, how even as natural as it is, it still raises his heartbeat and makes him feel like he's running fill tilt without ever having to be the Flash. "Second prettiest thing in the room right now," Barry adds fondly, tipping his forehead gently against hers, their eyes catching and holding for a long moment, before hers skitter toward the bride and groom.

"Lyla does look lovely," she comments after a beat, smiling mischievously, dark eyes flicking back up to Barry's. She knows he isn't talking about Lyla, can feel everything shifting between them as surely as he can, but can't resist giving him a hard time about it.

His eyes roll at the comment: he knows that she's playing with him and it's just one more piece in the endless puzzle of reasons he's been falling for this brilliant woman. "Third prettiest then," he settles on. "Lyla does look beautiful but I'm a little biased about what takes the top spot on that list."

Pulling away slightly, Barry presses a kiss to her forehead to punctuate the statement and gives her a playful wink. Caitlin just tugs him back to settle her cheek against his shoulder for the last piece of the song, the soft quirk of her lips absolutely radiant with warm happiness.

"_The lights down low, dancin' slow, oh if fallin's how you feel and perfect's what you see, then I'd be what you mean to me. Yeah if fallin's how you feel…"_ He sings out the remainder of the lyrics, Caitlin tucked against him, feeling like maybe they're about to finally tip over the precipice they've been balancing on for so very, very long.

The DJ breaks the final notes to thank everyone and congratulate the bride and groom on their first dance and Caitlin uses that moment of distraction to toss them completely over their self constructed edge. Barry is straightened up to peer over at Digg and Lyla, grinning, so she trails her hands over the back of his neck, holding his face against her palms to guide his lips to hers. They break apart while the room is still echoing with applause, everyone oblivious to them except for them. Smiling softly, but not the least bit sheepish, Caitlin lets his forehead fall against her own again. "That's exactly what you mean to me Barry."

* * *

Diggle Wedding Snowbarry with all sorts of other friends and implied couples! This fic has been on my list for ages now but I saw Brett Eldridge in concert a few weeks ago and when I heard this song I knew it was what I needed to write this fic. It's a pretty song, I listened to it on repeat for the two or so hours it took to write this.

Just some clarification, this is set about 2.5-3 years into the future. Everyone knows each other's secrets and are friends and what have you. I have a deep need/love for the idea of Caitlin and Iris becoming wonderful friends (and eventually torturing Barry with childhood stories) so you see a snippet of that in here. Plus, Digg being happy is always on my tops list so wedding :)

I'm two weeks behind on Arrow so this might be even more unlikely than it currently is, but hopefully you can still enjoy it. As always, feedback, suggestions and prompts are always welcome. If you've sent a prompt, I promise I've got it on my list, but I've got tons from you folks, and a list of my own, so I'm steadily working my way through them.

Thanks &amp; best wishes!

A.O.R.


	21. swimming lessons

Anonymous asked: A Snowbarry prompt: Not a couple yet!snowbarry. Barry finds out Caitlin can't swim, so he takes her to the local pool to teach her. Things get a bit handsy. Thanks!

* * *

**swimming lessons**

* * *

"Barry Allen, is this really necessary?" Caitlin sounds twelve different kinds of not amused as she peers at him over the rims of her sunglasses, completely ignoring the rest of their group (though they all sneak glances at the pair, each completely amused by the exchange).

Barry just beams boyishly at her. "Completely necessary Caitlin Snow." His comment prompts an eye roll that he ignores, instead continuing to help Cisco and Eddie unpack the Escape, while Iris scans around for a good place to set up their stuff.

It's a rare day off for the whole of the group. No meta human threats have been on the horizon, things are calm at the police station and Iris had switched weekends at Jitters with the hopes of enjoying at least one day of her last spring break before graduating. The plan to hit up the beach had come up a few weeks ago when, completely by accident, Caitlin had confessed to Barry and Cisco that she had never learned to swim. Given the number of large lakes and beaches nearby, the guys had decided it was high time she learned.

And so here they are: at a not-quite crowded lake, unpacking way more stuff than a single day at the beach should necessitate and enjoying their mid-twenties in a way they rarely do. (That was the argument that had gotten her here, if she's honest. That and the promise of a few hours just relaxing in the sunshine, reading the book she has tucked away in her bag.)

Once they find a spot and set up, the rest of the morning passes by harmlessly enough. Barry, Eddie and Cisco play Frisbee for a while, their throws growing increasingly haphazard as they try and get the others to miss. Caitlin and Iris read for a bit, before getting distracted by the guys' antics and start talking instead. They chat about school and work and their shared friends until Barry, Cisco and Eddie drop back on the collection of blankets each grumbling something to the effect of being ready for lunch. Everyone swaps around sandwiches and soda and stories while the sun climbs higher.

It's actually pretty nice, Caitlin thinks, this whole pretending to be normal people thing. She'd been too focused on her studies, then her work, to ever do these kinds of things before. Even with Ronnie, they'd had each other and their friends at S.T.A.R. Labs but she's never really had a core group of people like this. Friends who do things like spend a Saturday at the beach just because. She's in the middle of musing about how much she likes it, when Barry catches her attention.

She looks up, caught off guard, to see him standing above her, hand outstretched, wearing a smile that definitely doesn't mean anything good. "Time for your swimming lesson."

Caitlin can't help it, she groans. "Do we have to do this?" She's made it two and a half decades without needing to know how to swim and she's done perfectly fine for herself. Still, she remembers a long ago conversation about predictability and things being better, and so she huffs her displeasure but reaches for his hand nonetheless.

"Definitely," is Barry's initial reply, his grin widening when she gives up easily. Catching her hand, he tugs her up effortlessly before toeing off his sandals and ditching his t-shirt. He's been looking forward to this since the idea had formed and he's certainly not going to let her get out of it. Still, he can only imagine that learning something new, something that most people learn as children, might be a little nerve wracking and he doesn't want to force her into something she's completely against, so he amends his comment thoughtfully only a moment later. "If you really don't want to, I won't force you but you know I wouldn't let anything happen to you Cait."

And damn him, because it's the sincerity of that statement that erases any lingering doubts she has (well, 99% of them anyway). "I know that," is her instant reply, voice a little softer than it had been before. She too removes her flip-flops before reaching down to tug off the sundress she's been wearing over her black halter-top bikini. She doesn't notice the way Barry's eyes cast over her bare skin, too busy folding her dress and depositing it back into her bag (the others notice, trading wide, mischievous grins before hastily returning their attention the their previous tasks). "Alright, let's get this over with." Knowing he won't let her drown does not immediately remove her misgivings, after all.

The way Barry smiles, looking lighter then he has in a long time, far more his age than usual, might though. Despite herself, she feels a little excited as they make their way to the edge of the lake and start wading in. The water's still a little cold, given that it's only April, but by the time it's halfway up her torso, Caitlin's adjusted pretty well.

Deeming them out far enough, Barry begins basic instruction, teasingly explaining the absolute basics of buoyancy and weight distribution. "Really Barry?" Caitlin scoffs, using a cupped palm to send a wave of water at his face.

The water hits its target, catching him straight in the mouth. "Hey!" And he splashes back immediately, sending a disproportionately large surge of water at Caitlin, leaving her hair plastered around her face. Not one to be outdone, she fires in return and the swimming lesson dissolves into a splash war, their toes still firmly entrenched in the silty lake bottom.

Barry tries to call out a cease-fire a few minutes later, but Caitlin's laughter is so carefree that he abandons the plan and immediately changes course. Ducking below the surface, Barry swims beneath fast as a flash and comes up with his arms around Caitlin's middle, tickling her bare sides in an attempt to gain some leverage. She squirms in his grasp, gasping for air, giggling like crazy and desperately trying to get away.

Adjusting his grip to avoid her flailing arms, Barry tugs her closer, flush against his chest, and uses his scant few inches of height advantage to grin cheekily down at her. "Truce?"

Winded, grateful for a reprieve from his wriggling fingers, Caitlin turns her head to look at him, twisting slightly in his grasp and causing his hands to run along her mostly bare hips. The feeling of his fingers, warm despite the cool water, holding her in place against him is at once sobering and exhilarating. She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn't comment on the placement although her heartbeat does speed up when his fingers only press a little bit more firmly against her skin. "I suppose I can let you surrender," she teases, refusing to be flustered.

Barry's not entirely certain he feels the same because the way her skin slides against his is definitely distracting, especially when he feels his fingers stray over the edges of her bikini bottoms. He tightens his grip reflexively and turns her a little more, so that she's all but sitting sideways in his arms, the heel of her left foot dragging along his calf in the tow of the water. "Surrender?" He questions, letting himself fall back into the familiar pattern of teasing to steady his fraying nerves. All the same, he's unable to resist winding her up further and his fingers slide up her sides (goose bumps rising along the flesh) and begin to tickle her again.

Caitlin all but shrieks, her own hands gliding up so that one presses against his clavicle and the other wraps around his bicep. "Okay, okay. I'm willing to negotiate a truce!" She breathes, her eyes smiling as they catch Barry's.

A little reluctantly, he lets her go watching as she bobs slightly in the water before settling back against the lake's bottom. "My terms are this swimming lesson," he decides, still smiling. "You know the basics, just float and move and I'll be here if you need me."

Apparently the time for putting this off is past, so Caitlin nods, takes a deep breath and pushes off the bottom so that she's no longer standing but floating in the water. With sweeping gestures and little kicks, she begins to propel herself forward, torn between feeling immensely stupid for splashing around like an idiot (who somehow never learned to swim) and panicked at the way the waves bob her up and down on their path to the shore. She does pretty well for a while, moving in little trails and circles in the space around Barry, who grins with pride as he watches her.

Mentally, she knows she's already got the hang of it (it's swimming, not neuroscience), but there's a piece of her that gives into the panic when a boater in the distance sends a wave that rolls over her head. Caitlin flails stupidly, suddenly in too deep water, but almost immediately after calms as a familiar arm wraps around her waist.

"Easy there Cait," and suddenly her toes are settled back against the silty bottom and for the second time in less than an hour, she finds herself pressed tightly the Barry's chest, her shoulder blades flush against his pectorals and his stomach moving against her back as he speaks. "I've got you, I'm not going to let you drown."

The conviction in his voice ensnares her attention and distracts her from her fears, so she tips her head back to catch his gaze. Caitlin feels a little like she's drowning again but for different, far more pleasant, reasons. She needs to break the tension, and teasing is always their go-to method. "I'm beginning to think the reason you planned all this was so you could do just that."

Barry's chuckle rumbles down her back, chasing a shiver as it moves down her spine. "Aw Cait, you're not even close to guessing my actual ulterior motive."

That catches her attention. "Oh yeah, what's that speedy?"

He knows she's standing on her own two feet now (he's been slowly towing them toward shallower water) so he doesn't feel guilty when he suddenly lets her go to swim a few feet away. "Catch me and I'll tell you."

There's no better motivation for Caitlin Snow to do anything than not losing, so she ignores the lingering prickle of fear and begins to messily swim around chasing after Barry. Eventually she's moving confidently through the water but he can tell she's beginning to tire so he lets her catch him. When she's close enough, Caitlin leaps for his shoulders, pressing her hands on them to push him under the water.

He goes willingly but comes up and catches her a moment later, one arm in its new favorite position, curled around her waist and the other raised in surrender. "Okay, I yield to the mighty Caitlin Snow!" he teases, grinning and dripping in the sun, much like she is. (And she looks absolutely gorgeous, and it's the first time since they've been out here that he lets himself appreciate it, feeling victorious both for having accomplished his mission and for her general proximity).

As she has all afternoon, Caitlin lets him take hold of her, appreciating the help treading in the deeper water almost as much as the feeling of his fingers once again fluttering across her bare skin. She grips both his arms, smiling up at him, rainbows reflecting in the droplets lazily rolling down both their bodies. "So, what was this ulterior motive of yours exactly?"

Barry just grins that cheeky, satisfied grin he's been wearing off and on all day as he replies, "Well, it might have had something to do with seeing you in a swimsuit."

* * *

So light and flirty is not exactly my specialty so it ends up a bit more intense then I would have liked but there's lots of touching and cute moments so hopefully you guys like it. Decided to make this a whole group thing, bringing in the idea of everyone being friends, because I love the thought of them all being actual young adults together. Also, I know that Caitlin mentions going scuba diving in an episode, so the idea of her not being able to swim is ridiculous, but it's a cute/fun prompt so a little disbelief is always okay, right?

Anyone whose sent/commented with prompts, I promise they're on my list. I'm trying to work through them all, and I have a set of fics queued up to post here. They will eventually get done though, no worries. I would never abandon a prompt.


	22. things you can handle

**Anonymous asked**: Hi! I love your blog (and writing) sooo much! If it's not too much trouble, could you possibly write a Snowbarry fic where Caitlin is excited to go undercover for her first field mission (any kind of mission), but is a bit mystified- even slightly offended-at how adamant Barry is against her doing so? (A hint of oblivious!Caitlin to Barry's feelings would be AWESOME!)

* * *

**things you can handle**

* * *

Deep down, he knows it's unavoidable but that doesn't mean he has to like it. In fact, he hates every part of this situation, which has Team Flash pitting the likes of Caitlin Snow against the city's latest meta-human. Objectively, he knows Caitlin is more than capable: she's brilliant, quick thinking, and unwaveringly strong. She saves his ass plenty often enough, he would never dream of doubting she can't handle herself (and even if he did, he'd rather face Captain Cold than tell her that). But Caitlin saving his ass (and thus greatly contributing the whole 'saving the day' thing he does) happens in a fairly controlled environment, her voice through an earpiece guiding him from the relative safety of S.T.A.R. labs.

And yes, he knows that relative is exactly what that safety is, that even the lab has been compromised and that she's been in some sticky situations of late. That's exactly his not-even-slightly-objective point. She's been in the crosshairs enough as it is and now they want to just deposit her right in harm's way?

Suffice to say, he's not a big fan of the plan. (Not a fan is an understatement: he is wholly and completely opposed to said plan, for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that he's beginning to suspect he might just be falling for her and the idea of her in danger makes every molecule in his body rebel rather violently.)

It only makes it worse that Caitlin's excited, eager to help out and use her expertise for something other than stitching up the latest evidence of his inability to think before he acts. She's been buzzing around the lab in a whirlwind of curls and clicking heels for the last hour getting ready for her undercover assignment at a medical conference where they believe their suspect is going to show up, to try and hand out free samples of his toxic cocktail to unsuspecting physicians and pharmacists.

As a result, he's spent the last hour sulking (which is what Cisco called it five minutes ago, eyes rolling and head shaking as he walked out of the lab, not eager to get caught in the inevitable collateral damage) and devising increasingly stupid ways to prevent the whole situation. Since all of them involve at least one hundred potential innocent deaths at the hands of Plague's toxic sweat, he's pretty much resigned himself to sitting on the edge of a heart attack until this whole thing is over. After which he's going figure out a way to keep her locked to her desk chair for the foreseeable future.

As hopeless as Barry knows it is, he's not going down without one last-ditch effort and the returning tap of Caitlin's red pumps is his cue to give it a shot.

"I still think we could manage to grab him before he gets to the conference," no preamble, no forewarning, Barry dives right into his attempt to sidetrack her, one set of fingers crossed in the pocket his jeans for luck. "Way less risky."

His blunt suggestion finds exactly zero purchase as Caitlin strides into the main lab room, dark eyes narrowing rapidly as she processes his idea. Her responding words are sharp and fierce, "I can handle myself Barry. I'm not going to screw it up so you can stop trying to stop me from going. I'm a big girl."

"That's not it Caitlin, it's just—"

"Just what Barry?" She's staring him down, like he's the one trying to infect half the city with a watered-down, slow leaching poison, her hands on her hips posing a stark contrast between her vibrant red finger nails and the muted dark gray dress she's wearing. Sharp and bright and graceful and contradictory—all the necessary pieces of the beautiful Dr. Caitlin Snow—her voice softens a hint, "Just that you don't think I can do this?"

And just like that she goes from wildly mad to hurt and he has to force himself out of the chair he's been slumped in (sulking, pouting, okay, so Cisco was 100% correct) to cross the dozen feet between them. He knows she's going (knew he didn't really have any chance to convince her otherwise), the last thing on earth he wants to do is send her out in a dangerous situation thinking he doesn't have absolute faith in her. Because he does, even if he has absolutely no faith in the jackass she's going to be looking for.

"Of course I don't think you can do this," he rushes forward, the look on her face teetering between blowing up and crumpling. "I _know_ you can Caitlin. You can do anything, I'd never doubt that."

She looks a little calmer in the wake of those words, but it's not a satisfying admission because it's not nearly the whole story. He knows he has to account for the petulant toddler-esque attitude he's been clinging to all afternoon. Doing so requires recounting his failures though, and when those failures involve her safety, they're physically painful to drag out.

"Then what is it Barry?" She manages to spit out, both hesitant and harsh, when he lingers in silence too long.

"I hate how much I put you in danger, just by being near you. I mean, not a month ago you got abducted because of me—and all you were doing was heading home." It still causes his chest to constrict painfully, every time he thinks about that phone call and that video feed. It's one thing to put his life on the line with his friends' help; it's something completely different to let them put their lives on the line as well; to let her put her life on the line. "But this, letting you stroll right in and talk to that creep? It just feels wrong, I hate it and I can't help that it makes me anxious and sick to my stomach to think about."

Like everything with the pair of them (well, almost everything—there's one vaguely forming thought he's not nearly ready to examine or spill), he feels a million times better just talking about it. He still has no desire to let her do this, but having those thoughts out in the air between them feels like equilibrium shifting back into place—it isn't only in science they share, but in their friendship.

Any hint of anger that had been lingering in her expression melts away at Barry's confession, replaced by a look of total understanding. She hasn't really thought about it that way. She's been so caught up in helping to bring this guy down that she hasn't realized how he might be feeling. Caitlin breaths a heavy sigh and the corners of her lips tug up in the barest of sympathetic smiles. "Now you know how I feel every time you put on that suit."

* * *

Like it always seems to, the whole situation goes to hell in hand basket about five minutes shy of eminent success. Caitlin has the sample and she's managed to surreptitiously tag Plague with a tracker and she's just on her way to sneak out the door when she's spotted by an old friend from her undergrad. The second the colleague calls out her name, Barry and Cisco (watching through some surveillance cameras at the convention center) watch as Plague's attention snaps over to her, a look of recognition crawling over his face. Oh god, Barry thinks, he needs to stop calling out her name over the comms, it's about to get her killed.

Fast as his namesake he's changed and on his way, cursing himself for not waiting outside like he had wanted to. Fast as he is, it's not quite enough because by the time he intercepts the advancing meta-human, Plague has already built up a heady layer of his not-watered-down poison sweat. It wicks through the layers of Barry's suit as he runs them back to the lab and tosses him in a particle accelerator cell. The closing door is the last thing he sees before it overpowers him and he passes out.

It's not nearly as pretty a sight as the first thing he sees when he wakes up—which is a head of curls lying pressed against the side of his med-table bed, spilling across the formerly sterile white fabric. The owner of said head snaps to sleepy attention the second he starts moving—something he's pretty sure she's trained herself to do over time—and schools an extremely disapproving scowl immediately across her features (still, he doesn't miss the brief flicker of relief that the scowl replaces).

"Between the antidote I made, your healing abilities and the fact that you're awake, there doesn't seem to be any lasting damage from Plague's poison. How do you feel?" Clinical, a bit sharp, there's no preamble to her comments, which is exactly how he knows her level of mad is pretty high. But it's not the first time, won't be the last, so he slides up a little bit, wincing as he does.

"Like I ran into a train," Barry admits, grappling for a little more purchase, preferring to have the inevitable conversation while relatively upright.

She gives a little huff, examining a monitor he hadn't even realized he was hooked up to. Clearly he was becoming far too accustomed to the beep of medical equipment, the dig of needles and the presence of diodes on his skin (which, he knows, is at least partially the cause for Caitlin's aggravation). "Well you should, given that one of the symptoms is muscle paralysis. You're lucky the material of your suit slowed its absorption long enough for you to make it here." Seemingly satisfied with his test results, she began to remove the electrical pads, tearing them off his skin without warning. "You're also lucky Dr. Wells was here to administer the antidote **and** that I left some behind."

To his credit, he lets her yank off the sticky diode pads and tug out his IV without any comment and only minute flinching. Caitlin's anger is like a winter storm: it needs to blow itself out before you tackle the aftermath, and find the beauty beneath. Well versed in this concept, he just gives a quiet "I know" as she ticks items off the list of things he's fortunate for and removes the last monitoring devices from his arms. Her mood is probably why the lab is otherwise unoccupied: Cisco and Dr. Wells have long since learned to avoid the squalls of her annoyance when he does something stupid, preferring to leave him ride out the storm on his own. (Not that he blames them: he's earned it. But if it means keeping her out of harm's way, he's just going to keep doing it anyway).

There's silence for a long while as Caitlin makes a few notes in the most recent of his many, many health charts. She shuts off the machines and puts equipment away and he just stays where he is, leaning heavily against the propped up medical bed, letting his healing catch up with his injuries and vaguely wondering just how long he was asleep for. The sky outside the labs is still star studded, but certainly darker than when he'd raced to the medical conference.

Finally, he caves and asks. "How long was I out?"

She's by her desk now, standing but scribbling some final notes on his chart, but she pauses to check her watch and throw him a glance. "Nearly five hours." Caitlin sounds weary—no wonder, it must be around two in the morning—and like she's ready for the next, equally inevitable phase in this conversation.

Sure enough, she dots a few I's and crosses a few T's and then makes her way back to him, settling into the spot where he'd first found her upon waking. "So, mind telling me what prompted the unplanned entrance?"

"When that pharmacist called your name, Plague looked like he realized who you were. He must have heard me talking to you over the comms earlier and put it together—obviously, given the concentration of sweat he had when I grabbed him. He would have hit you with it."

Caitlin sighs, "We were prepared for that, Barry, remember? I had the antidote on me, I would have hit him with it and neutralized his powers and no one would have gotten hurt." Logically, he knows that. Knows that was the plan, that he'd helped establish the plan (completely unwillingly) and that they had already prepared for something to go wrong but in that moment it hadn't mattered.

Knowing that, like before, everything will work itself out far more easily with honesty than anything else, he just comes right out and tells her as much. "I know that, I do. And I know that you hate when I run into things without thinking them through, but here's the thing Caitlin: I'm going to keep doing it."

Like he always does, Barry anticipates the flare in her fury and just shakes his head to forestall it. "I am always going to keep running into danger when it keeps you out of it. It doesn't matter if we plan ahead, it doesn't matter if we have a backup."

"Barry, you can't keep throwing yourself in front of us. We all made the choice to help you in this; sometimes we're going to be the ones who might get hurt. It's my life and my choice." Sure, she never planned on her life involving meta-human villains or willingly putting herself in danger for the safety of complete strangers, but this is her life now and she can make her own decisions.

"I'm not going to lose you Caitlin, I can't do it." Those thoughts from earlier, the ones that dance around Caitlin and her importance in his life, flare into brilliant relief now and he can see them clearly even if he's not ready to do anything about them yet. "When the choice is between keeping you safe or running the risk of losing you, then there isn't any choice to make."

It's quiet for a long moment, silence stretching between them. It's an intense statement to make, all the more punctuated by his position in the hospital bed, recovering from making that exact choice. But he means it, all of it, and while he means it for all of them—Cisco, Wells, Joe and everyone else who ends up wrapped up in this part of his life—he especially means it for her.

"We're never going to be anywhere but at an impasse on this, are we?" Caitlin finally settles on, her fingers wrapping around his wrist and a small, weary smile tipping her lips upward.

"Probably not. We're both pretty stubborn people." The comment gets its desired effect: she laughs and the tension his admissions have turned up dissipates in the warmth of the sound.

"Stubborn or not," she changes the subject, her smile still lingering. "And whether I agree with you or not, you do need to get some rest so your healing can finish doing its job."

That she also needs rest is something she would never say and, while he's still here, nothing she'll willingly give in to. Rolling his eyes as she stifles a yawn, Barry pats the bed next to him, scooting over. "So do you Caitlin, and we both know I'm never going to convince you to go home and sleep." The roll of her eyes is reassuring, it means they're back at all their impasses—even the ones that are tipping in ways neither are sure of. For now, it doesn't really matter.

Shaking her head at him, Caitlin gives in and hoists herself up on the overly large medical bed, leaning back to get comfortable. "Because I'm stubborn?" She jokes, prompting a tired chuckle from Barry even as he works to tug the scratchy cotton blanket over them both.

"Exactly."

* * *

Definitely took some pieces of dialogue from Arrow, can you spot which bits?

Hope you guys enjoyed this one, it was actually posted as a two parter on tumblr, but I thought it'd be nice to put it together here. Sorry for the delay in posts, I usually try not to go more than 2-3 days but I got a little busy. I've got a good 15 or so stories backlogged to post, so I'll try and keep being a little more regular on that.

Also, huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far! I've never had this much feedback on anything I've written. Those reviews mean a lot to me!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	23. buzzed on your smile

_**Anonymous asked: Can you write a fanfic on Barry pretending to be drunk to get away with kissing Caitlin? And caitlin finds out hes pretending ;))) love your fanfics btw**_

* * *

**Buzzed on your Smile**

* * *

Friday nights, more often then not, find them in the lab rather than a bar but every now and then they give in to the urge to be normal twenty-somethings and go out for drinks. They're always fun occasions: a few hours to shirk off the worries of their 'normal' lives and just enjoy themselves. Cisco and Barry play pool or darts (he's determined to beat Oliver at darts someday) until some pretty woman distracts Cisco. Caitlin drinks cold cider on the sidelines, calling out pointers even though they all know she's not particularly good at either game. More often then not, Iris and Eddie come out too and even Joe is occasionally dragged along for a celebratory glass if it's been a particularly good week of city saving.

But sometimes it's nice to just have team night, to bond and reconnect and celebrate the trio they've become and revel in their own little world. Tonight is one of those nights.

After beating Barry in three successive games of pool, Cisco has taken his beer and his talents elsewhere, leaving Barry and Caitlin sitting at the bar, laughing as their friend tries to pool shark his way into some sort of tournament. His poker face needs work but luckily, the assembled group doesn't take him too seriously, so they let him jump in.

"Someone's about to get a big surprise," Barry jokes, draining the last of his beer and drawing his attention away from Cisco. The beer is delicious—cold and crisp and refreshing, he just wishes he could actually catch the pleasant buzz that's dusted red across Caitlin's cheeks the way she has. He certainly doesn't miss hangovers, could live his whole life without actually being drunk, but he can't deny that he misses the light headed easiness that comes from being half a glass over sober.

If Caitlin notices the sudden dip in his mood as he looks pensively at the dregs of his beer, it doesn't register in her expression. In fact, her entire face brightens a beat after his comment, a wide smile lighting her already slightly flushed appearance. "Speaking of surprises!" she beams, turning around to rummage in her purse.

Bewildered, Barry's brows knit themselves into a downward slope of utter confusion, only to bounce back up when she turns back with a vial in hand. "That's not a vacuum tube…" It can't be—she hasn't produced a needle and the vial is already filled with something, but it wouldn't be the first time Caitlin has taken blood samples at a bar. His slight apprehension is entirely justified.

"Of course not," she laughs with a fond roll of her eyes. Tipping a little closer, edging into his gravity with a familiarity born of nearly a year of friendship (and all of the ups and downs that year has come with), Caitlin lowers her voice. The bar is loud enough that it's not at all necessary, yet he can't bring himself to mind the proximity, the warmth of her arm pressed just slightly against his or the whiff of her perfume that tries to distract him. "Latest test batch. It's taken a while, but I think I've finally got the longevity problem adjusted to work with your metabolism."

The alcohol-induced eagerness of earlier in the evening, when she'd been dutifully trying to coach Barry through at least holding his own against Cisco at pool, is replaced with the kind of feverish excitement that only scientific discovery can inspire. The very idea that Caitlin Snow's idea of fun involves studiously distilling new concoctions to get him drunk tugs at all the best feelings in his chest, which spill out in a laugh. Because of course she's still trying, months and months later, because she wants to be able to give him this, this little piece of normal and escape and maybe also because Dr. Caitlin Snow is too stubborn to give up or admit defeat.

"You really don't have to work so hard for me you know Cait," Barry chuckles, even as he reaches for the container.

She lets him take it, shaking her head. Her tone as she replies is light and playful, a sound that he's quite enjoyed learning to coax out of her over time. "Are you kidding, this is totally for me Barry Allen. I refuse to go through life without seeing you get drunk and clumsy at least once." Crazy to think that a year ago, Caitlin cracking jokes and giving him a hard time would have been an anomaly and not normal behavior, yet these days it is. Their friendship has been so good for both of them, (Cisco's too of course, but he's a little distracted by Caitlin at the moment), has drawn them both from a lot of dark places. Sometimes he hardly recognizes the people they've managed to become these past months.

"Well then," he continues to talk around laughter, raising the vial towards her and nodding to her glass of cider. "Cheers?"

Caitlin lifts her glass and clinks it against the edge of plastic, the reverberation of the collision more audible than the sound of it. "Cheers."

He can feel her dark eyes on him, her painted lips lingering on the rim of her glass as she studies his reaction (scientist to the last). Determined to make sure she knows how much he appreciates her efforts, Barry knocks back the clear liquid with a sputter the moment it hits his throat. Damn. The reaction is instantaneous—his head is fuzzy, his thoughts completely clouded by the burning haze of alcohol and the heady curve of her smile beaming at him.

It's silent between them for a well-timed count of fifteen seconds, the longest his buzz has ever lasted, before Caitlin raises a silent but eager brow in question. Barry shakes his muzzy head and grins back. "I think that did the trick," he manages, still a little breathless with the sting, the excitement and the way victory dances across her features.

A victory short lived: he barely has the words out and he feels his buzz slip away. He opens his mouth to tell her and then stops. Caitlin looks so exhilarated and pleased; he can't bear to take it away from her. So instead he orders them each another drink and does his best to keep up the act—being buzzed on her joy is better then the sting of the alcohol anyway, even if it doesn't produce quite the same kind of fuzzy headedness.

When Cisco joins them half a drink later, looking pretty pleased with himself as well (a sharp contrast to the sour expressions on the group of guys he's just killed in pool), Caitlin eagerly updates him on the success of the serum and Barry continues to play his part well. He feels all the more vindicated for his lie when he realizes how much time Caitlin's put into this, snippets of breaks and lunches and evenings when they've been training or goofing off or already gone home.

When it seems like it's pushing past a reasonable time for his metabolism to counter the alcohol's effects, Barry mentions that the feeling is fading and they decide it's time to head home. Grabbing their coats, the trio sets out together, only to split apart four blocks later: Cisco to the east and Barry and Caitlin continuing south. He always drops her at her house before flashing himself back home.

"So, how long did the buzz actually last?" Caitlin asks, shooting him an appraising look after they've said their goodbyes to Cisco and continued on.

Barry puts on his most puzzled expression, looking down at the shorter figure beside him. "What do you mean?"

Like she always does when she thinks he's being ridiculous, Caitlin rolls her eyes. "Barry, your metabolism is faster then that. I calculated a maximum buzz length of ten minutes."

There's no point in arguing with her, especially about her own science: Caitlin much prefers honesty and it's one thing to fib for her feelings, another to outright lie when she's calling him on it. "About a minute."

Her face deflates and he panics, pausing where they're at and tugging her wrist to turn her towards him. "Hey, it was one hell of a minute. And an even better half hour watching you preen."

Caitlin's disappointment dissolves into a bursting exhale and the hand not still locked in his gentle grasp moves to swat at his chest. "I was not preening Barry Allen!"

"You definitely were, but it was adorable." It's a slip, he catches it half a second too late but the look it evokes (partially surprised, partially smug, partially embarrassed and partially teasing) is the best thing he's experienced all night. She could bottle that and he'd spend the rest of his life with his head in the clouds. Feeling emboldened by the expression, he swoops in and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead (he wonders how it is that he gets more courage from being fake drunk then he ever did being actually drunk). "I just didn't want to burst your bubble, you seemed pretty excited."

"I thought I'd finally gotten you buzzed, that you could get back at least one normal experience." Normal is something none of them will ever be again, yet they still sometimes grapple with capturing hints of it when they can. But if not-normal means Caitlin and Cisco by his side, means nights drinking beer for the flavor and losing at pool and leaving that puzzled, half smiling look on Caitlin Snow's face, well then normal is totally overrated.

He debates telling her this, but it's late and it's getting chilly and he should probably get her home, so he settles on wrapping an arm around her shoulder and guiding them forward. "Caitlin, if you really want to get me buzzed, just keep smiling."

* * *

Okay, so this isn't exactly what you asked for, but I'm not a big fan of using alcohol to fuel first kisses, so I hope you think this take was a cute way of stretching the prompt :)

As always, feedback of any sort is very much appreciated!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	24. fill my mind with your everything

_**Anonymous asked: Please please watch Flash 1x12 and write whatever fluff comes to your mind. Like, just watch that episode (...I saw you had work?). It will leave you with the biggest smile on your face :)**_

* * *

**fill my mind with your everything**

* * *

He's not sure how it happens, but one day he walks into the lab and realizes he notices everything about Caitlin: all those tiny details that define her and the experience of knowing her. At first, he's not sure how or when it started. It's like his head is just filled with pieces of her and every moment he spends with her just rearranges them a little, adding a few more details to the image.

Of course, it starts almost immediately, he just doesn't realize it until he's already way too far in to change course (or regret it).

* * *

The first thing he notices is the way sadness haunts her, every expression a stern one, every comment serious and weighted. Even her inquiries on his health are withdrawn, detached, and strictly scientific. It's creates a sharp dissonance between her and everyone else is his life, from the very moment he wakes up from his coma.

It takes him a little time to put his finger on exactly what it is about her that seems so at odds with Iris and Joe, Cisco and even Dr. Wells, but the moment he realizes it, the idea takes hold. His green gaze tracks to her constantly during their interactions, working to be proven right or wrong and when he decides he's gathered enough evidence for commentary, the truth is a hard, cold mass at the bottom of his stomach: she never smiles.

Not once in these past few days has he noticed even the slightest upturn in her lips, the barest ghost of a grin. It's disconcerting now that he thinks about it, and it steadily becomes something he can't help but think about, until finally he feels he can't go another day in Caitlin Snow's presence without saying something. So he does, an "I just noticed you don't smile too much" pulled out by her own inquiry, yet still feeling like an intrusion the moment it occupies the space between them (the weight of it heavy in her eyes, already too heavy on their own).

With the same clinical disconnect she used to explain his rapidly multiplying cells, she explains the loss of her fiancé, the shattering of her heart, the sinking of any reason that her lips reach for the sky.

He almost wishes he'd never said anything but then, would it feel like half as much a victory that first time that something he says, offhanded and a little self-deprecating, draws that very expression across her mouth, extending so far as to brighten her dark eyes? Would every smile after that mean what it does, had he not known how infrequent they had been for that long, dark stretch of months? Barry supposes not but he also doesn't think too closely on it, much preferring to concentrate on inspiring those grins rather than analyzing them.

* * *

It doesn't take long after he begins drawing smiles from her for Barry to realize that Caitlin is a highly tactile person, centering herself and finding focus through contact.

During his first semester at college, as part of his general degree requirements, Barry remembers reading a book called _The 5 Love Languages_ in his psychology course. The book presents the idea that every person has a primary love language, a particular way in which they give and feel love from other people (whether it's romantic love, familial, friendship or anything else on the endless spectrum of human emotion). He himself know that he is 'acts of service', knows that he gives and receives love best when he is helping others or they are helping him.

As he pulls her a little bit closer, down in the belly of the particle accelerator, the thought that Caitlin's love language must surely be touch flickers absently through his mind. It apparently sticks there, resurfacing every time he notices those shadowed, smile-less looks of their first weeks of friendship threatening to take over again. The knowledge demands use, so he comes up with dozens of reasons to brush past her, nudge her shoulder or exchange a hug in those moments, knowing that the contact will ground her.

For a while, Barry wonders if maybe he's reading her wrong because while Caitlin never pushes him away, she also never initiates those exchanges.

But he feels completely vindicated the evening of Blackout's attack when Caitlin reaches out for him this time, her fingers spread wide and her palm turned to his. (It's only as he takes it, lacing his fingers through hers, that he realizes how completely complementary their languages are: his touch a service to her, her touch a service to him—both comforted by the familiar warmth and steady pressure).

* * *

It takes him a lot longer to confidently root out the rationale behind her lip chewing but once he does, he uses it as a barometer for her moods, helping to navigate them like a ship through a storm.

He notices it fairly early on, but he initially chalks it up to a nervous habit—something she does without even thinking about it, no cause or correlation, just an unconscious action that crops up now and again, much like the way he sticks his hands in his pocket. But the more he notices it, the more he dismisses that idea: Caitlin doesn't engage in the habit often enough for a nervous habit.

Barry knows it's not necessarily an attempt at holding something back: Caitlin Snow does not do reserved well. When she's angry, she usually has no problem letting him know. He's done more than enough stupid things in the last seven months, has been on the receiving end of more than enough lectures. The drag of her canines against her lower lip has nothing to do with hesitance or restraint.

It's the first time he gets well and truly hurt that everything clicks into place.

She looks like she's puzzled, uncertain for the first time in a while, and he knows that she hates that (because it only took one game of Operation for him to discover that Caitlin hates to lose). She's been tugging the skin of her lower lip against her teeth since mid-afternoon, when they'd set up the plan that had gone so terribly wrong, and now the flesh looks positively raw under the lipstick she's trying to cover it up with.

She's bothered, worried, uncertain and her tell has been staring him in the face the whole time. Caitlin hadn't been convinced of the plan, she isn't currently convinced that his wounds will heal as well as they should, and those thoughts are swirling around in her too-brilliant mind, taking up space. He sighs, feeling better for a mystery solved, and distracts her with the pressure of his forearm against hers and the recounting of a terrible joke Joe had told him the previous night.

It does the trick. With a tantalizingly slow drag, she releases her lip, smiles and gets back to work rubbing a strong antiseptic along his mauled shoulder blade while scolding his carelessness.

He files the knowledge away with the rest, another piece of the puzzle he doesn't realize he's building.

* * *

On a Tuesday afternoon, two days after their stakeout karaoke adventure, Barry Allen watches a grin light up Caitlin's face and it's like a beam of illumination has lit up his whole understanding of her. Because he can trace the warmth of that expression from the curve of her lip, to the shift of her weight (just a degree closer to him), to the way it lights up her eyes and infuses into her familiar voice.

He's not sure when he started noticing everything about Caitlin, but the picture suddenly seems remarkably clear.

* * *

So this is the first thing that I came up with, post episode. Ties in a few pieces from along the way so far, but was totally inspired by the lip biting comment. I might revisit this with other traits and I also kind of want to take the time to do a Caitlin perspective on Barry at some point. Not necessarily super fluffy, but cute I hope.

As always, feedback and suggestions are most welcome.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	25. those quiet, perfect moments

_**those quiet, perfect moments**_

* * *

"Chief Singh stopped by today," Barry remarks from the other room, the sound of his voice muffled by the sound of lightly running water and punctuated by the tap of plastic against porcelain. His head peaks out from around the corner, his lips quirked up in a grin that carries just the slightest hint of lingering toothpaste. "I think he almost had a heart attack, when he realized I was not only on time for work but early."

Looking up from her spot on the bed, pausing in the painstaking process of painting her toenails, Caitlin laughs lightly. In the intervening years since Captain Singh had been promoted to chief and moved to the district office on the other side of Central City, she has almost forgotten about Barry's former supervisor. Yet the second Barry mentions him, she can't help but remember the man's constant frustration over Barry's tardiness. "Good thing Hartley makes him eat all that healthy food then." It hasn't been quite as long since she's thought about the man behind the Pied Piper and although they're on good terms now, that memory is a little tainted. She returns to her nails, three left from finished. "What did the chief want?"

Barry doesn't answer right away, preferring to rake his gaze fondly over the woman curled awkwardly over the dark gray bedspread. The water's still running, his toothbrush is still foamy, but he ignores them in favor of his distraction, focusing on how utterly beautiful she is even when she looks like she's just about to tip over. "Something about an old cold case that he wants Joe and Eddie to help check up on," he finally replies, holding back laughter as Caitlin twists even further to try and spread a layer of red against her smallest toe, the contortion quite impressive even as it's comical. She makes an absent sound of understanding, which Barry knows means she's still listening, even if her attention is divided.

He has half a mind to offer to help, but her independent, stubborn streak is part of the reason he fell in love with her in the first place, so he just lets Caitlin finish up, turning instead to finish brushing his teeth. They're supposed to be at Iris and Eddie's fifth anniversary dinner in an hour and, as has become surprisingly normal, they're running perfectly on schedule. All he has to do is change while Caitlin does her make up and slides on her dress and they'll be ready to head over. Amazing how something like marriage can help a person grow and change for the better—he can't remember the last time he was actually late for anything.

Once his toothbrush has been rinsed, Barry pads back into the bedroom and over to the bed. Toes finished, Caitlin's sitting with her feet on the floor and her back to the bathroom door. She's snatched up the journal article she'd been reading before bed last night and, rather than read it, is instead using the thick stack of papers to help air dry her crimson nails. Pausing in front of her on his way to the closet, Barry leans down to press a kiss against her already perfect curls. "Bathroom's all yours," and he disappears into their walk in closet (mostly full of her clothes; his take up a small section toward the inner wall) to find the suit he wants.

Deeming her nails suitably dry, Caitlin moves to take her place in the master bathroom, grabbing her make up bag on the way and beginning the relatively simple process of applying her usual light touches. "Are there new leads on the case?" She asks when sees him emerge from the closet, suit in hand, picking up their conversation with ease.

"Nothing that came through the lab." Another sound, light in her throat, soft and humming, that acknowledges his comment even though she has nothing to add.

Silence envelopes the master suite of their house for a little while, broken only by the rustle of fabric as Barry changes, the tap of the hamper lid falling back closed, the occasionally snick or scrape of a makeup container opening or closing, an occasional whispered lyric as Caitlin sings along with whatever music is running through her mind. Like everything about their relationship, the quiet is warm and easy. He loves these moments, loves the way they can move together and around each other so seamlessly, getting ready in a pattern that has become intimately familiar since they moved in together three years and married nearly a year ago. The steady comfort of routine is enveloping rather than suffocating, a calming presence in a chaotic world. He'd been in love before Caitlin, but it had never felt like this—so soft and familiar and yet fierce and passionate as well.

He's halfway through buttoning up his shirt when he notices Caitlin putting on her lipstick from the corner of his eye—that same bright shade of red as her toenails and it shoots a tiny jolt down his spine and pauses his fingers where they rest. She's beautiful in everything, but there's not an image in the world that affects him the way Caitlin wearing red does. He knows that once she puts on that dress, it's going to take every bit of his willpower to make it to dinner. "How were things at the lab after I left this afternoon?" Perhaps he can distract himself.

"Quiet actually. Nothing came up on any of our systems, so Cisco played around with a few particle accelerator cell modifications and I caught up on some of the latest epigenetic engineering research. There were a few fascinating articles I've had tabbed for a while that have got some incredible possibilities." Only Caitlin can sound so thrilled about spending an afternoon entrenched in journal articles—he smiles and finishes buttoning his shirt.

With the ease of familiarity, they swap spots again; just long enough for Barry to put on deodorant and aftershave while Caitlin grabs her dress from where it hangs off the headboard. They cross paths just shy of the doorway, meeting in a kiss that smudges Caitlin's lipstick. They both laugh as her thumb comes up to smooth away the color on his lips, lingering a little longer the necessary, to neither of their disappointment. "Do we have to go?" Barry whines, suddenly caught in the heat of her gaze and the drag of her thumb against his mouth.

"It's just dinner," she reminds him, playfully scolding even if he can see the way her pupils dilate slightly as well. "We need to eat anyway, and then we can come back home and enjoy the rest of our night."

The way she says it, leaning up against the tips of her toes to breathe against his neck and ear, has him grabbing for her hips and hauling her up (in her bathrobe, dress still firmly in hand) for a deeper kiss that he knows will take more than Caitlin's thumb to clean up after. "If you're sure."

"Very." She mutters with a shake of her head. Her curls bounce in the wake of the action and he has to resist threading his fingers through them. Just a few more hours. Barry snickers when he hears her add under her breath, "unfortunately," even if he completely shares the sentiment.

And then she's back in the bathroom, changing with the door open while he tries to avoid catching sight of her bare skin and instead threads on his tie. He's still absently fumbling with the strip of fabric when her dress makes its final cascade down to her knees, soft and deep red and beautiful, just like her smile as she steps out of the bathroom, turning off the light and automatically reaching for the ends of his tie.

It's not like Barry doesn't know how to tie his own tie, but he loves her proximity when she does it for him, always with an eye roll at how poor his own attempt is (okay, he can do it, but never as evenly or neatly as she can). Of course he probably could do better, but then he has no motivation to try when she's always so willing. Those hands, so often occupied with the task of stitching or cleaning or bandaging his wounds, twist easily around the silk fabric, pulling it tight and then running a hand down his torso to smooth it out. They meet for another kiss, this one more careful and then Barry flashes over to the closer to grab his coat and her cardigan. Once he places it securely about her shoulders, her offers Caitlin an arm.

"Ready to go Mrs. Allen?"

"Always, Mr. Allen."

* * *

Just a simple, married/domestic-y fluff piece that sprung to mind. Not in any particular fic-verse so could easily be in any. I just loved the idea of them getting ready in their master suit, moving around each other with the ease that comes from years of knowing one another and working cohesively, the way they do in the lab.

Yay for married/domestic-y fluff! Future Barry and Caitlin, potentially in the same verse as Mikeala Allen exists. I love the idea of them getting ready in their master suite, moving around each other with the ease that comes from years of knowing one another and working cohesively.


	26. a red ribbon, a white band

**a red ribbon 'round my heart, a white band 'round my finger**

* * *

A red ribbon breaks her white dress in two and her hair tumbles down in the same cascade of curls she wears almost every day. Somewhere beneath her fluttering hemline are two shoes in that same precise shade of red, so familiar but for such a different reason. A pendant rests upon her sternum, not quite hidden by the cut of her dress: a ruby on a white gold chain trailing over her skin to match the ring about her left fourth finger.

She's a absolute vision, an image of a lifetime he would have never expected he'd get to have and she's absolutely always this beautiful but today it catches him more by surprise than it usually does: he chokes on an inhale when the doors part and he sees her for the first time in this new way. There's a smile playing at the edge of her mouth, quiet but warm and entirely for him and he lets that ground him, breathe air into his failing lungs, as he catches her eyes and waits. (He's never so acutely wished that someone else had his Flash powers as he does waiting for her to make what never seemed like this long a walk down this aisle before, his very soul itching for the nearness that seems so slow to come right now).

He barely hears the vows as they're read, his mind so lost in her and them and their story to here and from here, but it hardly matters. He's heard these words before, a number of times throughout his life and he's aware enough to speak when he needs to. (They choose traditional vows because nothing else in their lives is traditional and it's one less thing to worry about, one less check on a list they don't really need to know that this is the forever kind of promise). So he just murmurs along, knows she's laughing at his distraction, and can't help but feel dumbfounded by how damn lucky he is. Despite everything in his life that has gone wrong, somehow he knows that he got this one thing right and soon it will be his (and hers) forever.

It seems like it's barely a moment later and he's slipping a second ring on to her finger, a white gold band to match the one already there and then they're trading roles: a heavy, warm kind of permanence wrapping around his heart as her soft fingers guide his own wedding band home. There's more words that follow and then a kiss, one hand holding her face gently in his grasp, the other smooth against the satin tails of red at her waist. When their lashes flutter open, in sync as always, the smiles on their faces are bashful in a way they haven't been since that first kiss in the lab, when fear had forced the stuttering confessions that only Felicity had previously managed to pry loose.

Funny how things change, he can't help but think, as they turn and are presented as Mr. Barry and Mrs. Caitlin Allen (she drops the doctor for the day, even though he'd said she didn't need to. She'd laughed that musical trill of hers and said it was a mouthful and too cruel to the priest). No one shouts louder than their ring bearer and flower girl (his godson Joe Thawne and her goddaughter Abigail Queen) which is only more proof at how wonderfully perfectly life works out when you least expect it to. Beaming, fingers woven together, they watch as their small wedding party leads them out (both children scooped up by their mothers, Cisco and Eddie following along in their suits) and then they're surrounded by friends and family, hugging and shaking hands and both secretly waiting for the chance to just breathe in this new life together.

* * *

They make it through the reception easily enough, constantly distracted by ringing bell-induced kisses, white wine and good food, stories and laughter, dances and well wishes. Honestly, he won't remember many of the details later, save for the feel of her hand in his, a thumb against the pulse of her wrist, the way she laughs when he pulls off the garter and how it feels to hear their names linked together, like two breaths of air finally becoming one.

(Thank god for pictures, he thinks absently, when someone catches his absent attention for a moment, and he responds without even knowing who he's talking to. He'll need them to fill in all the details not intricately tied to the mesmerizing form of his new wife.)

By the time the party quiets down and the last of the guests depart, leaving only their little extended family of superheroes, it's well after one and they're both exhausted. Caitlin starts to help collect centerpieces but Felicity just waves them off, insisting they get some rest (all the while wearing a smirk that suggests she believes they'll be getting anything but).

Caitlin gives a few token protests before she gives up, turning to smile at Barry with that same look that has distracted him all day. He doesn't even need to ask, just holds out his arm and turns to lead the way to their room, their footsteps heavy and unhurried across the hotel carpet.

It takes a little longer than it otherwise would to cross to the far corner of the hotel but they make it back to the room eventually. Barry digs around the pocket of his dress pants, eventually producing the room key. Like he usually does, he opens the door and holds it for Caitlin, only to throw out an arm when she steps through and gently guide her back out.

Brown eyes bewildered, brow quirked with confusion, Caitlin turns to her new husband (and god, how good it feels to say those words). "What is it?"

"I know it's not our place, but we won't be home for a week yet," he begins, smiling tiredly down at her. Without another word, he moves in and catches her up under the legs and behind the back. Carrying her in his arms, the position so very famialir, with one foot propping the door open, he leans his forehead against hers. "So I'm going to carry my wife across this threshold for now, if that's okay?"

It's old fashioned, and he worries maybe too much so, but then Caitlin's giggling laugh reassures his faint worry a moment later. She stretches up to press her lips to his. "Oh Mr. Allen, you're such a softie."

Smiling, shaking his head fondly, he replies, "only for you Mrs. Allen," and then he steps in and moves straight for the bed, easing her into it: wedding dress, high heels and all. In a flash, he's removed the heels and positioned himself above her, leaning down for a far more satisfying kiss then the last, the kind he's been aching to give her all day while being assaulted by ringing bells. His fingers caress over the red ribbon at her waist, untying it slowly as Caitlin's fingers come up to rake through his hair. He pauses in his efforts to place a lingering kiss just below her ear. "God I love you," he whispers, a staggering mix awe and conviction and disbelief seeping into the syllables, coloring them with a level of adoration that heavies her heart with tenderness.

Caitlin echoes his words (and all the sentiments behind them) before dragging his lips back up to hers, her fingers sluggishly pulling at his coat. They fumble around for a few minutes until finally they've divested themselves of their wedding clothes.

(But between all the kissing and undressing, the whole day that has lead up to the kissing and undressing catches up to them shortly thereafter. They fall asleep in nothing but their wedding rings, tangled in each other and wake up to celebrate properly in the late hours of the morning. They laugh about it immediately but can't imagine a more perfect start to their forever.)

* * *

A Snowbarry wedding scene. The first part, with all the red reference, came to mind ages ago but the rest took a little time to flesh out. This focuses mostly on them and their thoughts, but I'd eventually like to expand to include others into the storyline, so hopefully that will show up one of these days.

Feedback appreciated, as always, and suggestions for improvement are always most welcome!

Thanks for reading &amp; for all the feedback everyone.

Best Wishes &amp; Take Care,

A.O.R.


	27. birthday wishes you don't even wish for

_**birthday wishes [you don't even wish for]**_

* * *

Caitlin spends her twenty-sixth birthday determined to ignore it. Barry Allen, per usual, spends Caitlin's twenty-sixth birthday throwing wrenches into her plans without either of them realizing it and then smiles so warmly at the end of the day, holding a box with half a dozen of her favorite vanilla caramel cupcakes, that she can't even feign annoyance. Instead, she sets the box down and pushes through the space between them to wrap her arms around his neck and bury her face against his chest, smiling widely but with tears dripping down her face. He feels them soak through his shirt and the sensation sends his thoughts skittering in a dozen directions, even as he unconsciously reacts to the situation.

He looks completely puzzled as he pulls her in tighter, pressing his cheek to her hair and muttering whatever soothing platitudes come to mind. He's trying to exude calm and reassurance but internally he panics—what has he managed to do wrong? Has it been too much? Has he tried too hard to make up for all the usual traditions she's missing, without Ronnie there to celebrate them? (When he'd found out her birthday was approaching, he had spent an hour goading Cisco into explaining what the engineer had done each year, determined to give Caitlin a better birthday then he knew she'd likely been expecting).

He'd taken each of the traditions Cisco had mentioned (French toast for breakfast, notes throughout the day, dinner at her favorite restaurant) and scaled them back to make them less obtrusive while still trying to remind her that she was important, valued, appreciated throughout the day (her usual morning coffee already paid for at Jitters, flowers on her desk when she got to work, and just now her favorite cupcakes from the shop on Fifth, that they all sometimes stop at after a group dinner). He thought things had been going well, Cisco's texts throughout the day had reported nothing but surprised, grateful if confused smiles. They'd both taken those as good signs but clearly, they've both been wrong. Heaving a sigh of defeat, Barry clears his throat to apologize properly, but the second the words 'I'm sorry' spill out of his mouth, Caitlin pulls away looking as confused as he feels.

"What on earth are you sorry for Barry?" Her smile is softer now, the faint trail of tears still evident across her cheeks, not entirely dried by the fabric of his shirt. Her eyes are watery but, he notices, not actually sad. It throws him even further off but Barry begins to explain immediately anyway.

"I wanted you to have a nice birthday but it seems like all I did was upset you," he says, looking pointedly at her red, damp cheeks and feeling a bit like it's his own heart being bruised.

"Barry Allen, you loveably dummy," Caitlin laughs, her head shaking. "I was crying because I wasn't expecting anyone to do anything this thoughtful for me today, not because I'm upset. Thank you," she adds, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. One hand scrubs away the last reminder of her tears and then she turns to the box of cupcakes, grabbing them up before looking back at him. "Why don't we grab coffee by Iris and eat these with her, Cisco and Eddie? I suddenly feel like celebrating."

Barry's heart relaxes in his chest, warm from head to toe with relief. He grabs both their coats, shoots a text to Cisco and then Eddie and then takes the cupcakes in his right arm so he can wrap his left around Caitlin's shoulders. They walk all the way to Jitter's curled together like that, and when, a little while later, it's the five of them laughing, with Caitlin's grin so bright her eyes shine like diamonds, he feels a little bit like he's saved the world today (or at least one of the worlds that matters most).

* * *

Just a snapshot into the Barry/Caitlin friendship and another way they they take care of and support one another. Also a hint at what I like to call the Fantastic Five-aka the friendship between Barry, Caitlin, Cisco, Iris and Eddie, which I wish could be a thing even though my knowledge of canon tells me it will only ever be a thing in my fics.

Originally written as a birthday fic for the lovely airsay, little bit more than a month ago now.


	28. singing to distraction

_**singing to distraction**_

* * *

Barry likes to hum along to musical soundtracks whenever he's deep in thought. When he's particularly caught up in something, he'll start singing the lyrics quietly under his breath and not even realize it. Occasionally the quiet singing will scale into an unconscious belting out, but it's rare that he gets so completely distracted that that happens. It's a habit that started as a child, listening to his mother sing her favorite musical numbers, doing his best to pick up the words so that he could join in with her. As he'd grown up, he would watch musicals every time he started to miss her more than usual—it gave him a sense of connection, which is probably how the humming and mumbled singing (and more) started.

Caitlin discovers his habit completely by accident.

He's been working on a big case (one that involves no meta-humans for a change) for the last three days, barely stopping by the lab for anything less than an emergency and growing increasingly forgetful as the hours go by. Case in point, he's managed to forget his promise to meet Caitlin and Cisco for lunch.

In the middle of some polymer testing, Cisco needs to get back to the lab as soon as the two of them finish eating, but Caitlin's research isn't nearly as urgent, so she decides to drop by the police station. She's carrying the extra take-out they had ordered, expecting him to just be late as usual, knowing that if Barry has forgotten them, he'd also probably forgotten to eat in general (not healthy for anyone, but potentially dangerous for him).

Caitlin's been down by the precinct often enough at this point that it takes her barely any time to get past security—Officer Nills waves her through with a grin, asking how she's doing and what she's got in the bag. When she tells him that Barry forgot to meet for lunch, and that she's bringing him leftovers, the older man just laughs and shakes his head fondly, informing her that Barry is "awfully lucky to have such a thoughtful young lady in his life". She's pretty sure Nills is reading into something that isn't there, but she just smiles and heads into the open office space that makes up the main floor of the Central City police station.

It's not hard to spot Eddie and Joe; the latter leaned against his desk with the former explaining something from a file that's moving wildly in his hands. They're clearly hard at work, but the second Joe spots Caitlin, he waves her over and they greet her enthusiastically. Just like everyone else, they've gotten used to the sight of Caitlin at work. She and Cisco visit now and then to drag Barry away (sometimes for world saving, sometimes just for sanity saving and often enough just for food) and Caitlin occasionally gets drafted when Barry needs extra expertise in the lab.

She makes her way over to the two men, digging around in the bag of Chinese for the spare fortune cookies she'd made sure to grab. She's no more then gotten her fingers around them when Eddie nods toward the stairs, already knowing exactly why she's there. "He's in the lab." Laughing just slightly, she passes off the cookies and then heads toward the staircase, waving away the eager thank yous that follow her.

When she gets to the top of the stairs, she has every intention of calling out, but the quiet sound of music and singing stops her.

Barry is hunched over a table, lab coat on, and petri dish in hand, peering at something intently. Every now and then he sets the dish down, grabs a pencil and jots something down in his notes, the pattern occasionally interrupted by the beep of a machine and the subsequent pressing of a few more buttons. He's completely oblivious to her presence, totally caught up in whatever work he's doing, and it causes Caitlin to grin. Best of all, he's singing quietly through everything, not the least bit distracted by the multitasking.

Caitlin watches for a long moment, the weight of his lunch growing heavier in her hand, before she can't hold back the fond laughter anymore and startles him into awareness. "Wicked, Barry?" She asks, grinning as she strides across the room.

He doesn't even address the question, his face falling as he realizes what's happened. "Damn it, I missed lunch didn't I?" The guilt floods his features instantaneously: it's all she can do to try and rectify it.

"It's fine," Caitlin assures, setting down the paper bag and tugging a stool over to sit opposite of him. "Cisco and I knew you were busy, we figured you'd gotten caught up here, so I bought you leftovers." She nudges them in his direction, prompting him to slide aside his samples. "Clearly the price of having two jobs, both of which involve saving the world," she adds lightly, letting the teasing comment ease any lingering remorse.

"You're the best Caitlin." His gaze shouldn't be that sincere for such a light turn of phrase but she supposes that bailing each other out is what they do best. Barry starts digging through the takeout before it occurs to him to eat at his desk and not his workspace. He crosses the room, turning his attention back to her the moment he sits again. "You busy this afternoon?" Since his eyes are still on hers, curious and questioning, she shakes her head. "I'm a little stuck right now—want to stay and help me? We can do ice cream afterwards, to thank you for this?" He motions both to the bag of Chinese and the piles of evidence scattered across his work tables.

She really should get back to the lab, there's work to be done even if it's not pressing but there's something about the invitation, the chance to work as a team on something not hectic and crazy and imminently life and death that's appealing. "Only if you promise to sing some more Wicked," she decides, laughing at the way embarrassment flickers through his ridiculously green gaze at her comment. "It really is completely unfair that you've got super powers and a great singing voice."

* * *

Just a friendship-y fic (with maybe a tiny hint of something more) focused on one of my personal head canons, which is that Barry likes to sing musical numbers to himself while he's working. Just some fluff, hope you enjoyed! Comments, suggestions, etc are always appreciated!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	29. a first time (that wasn't)(until it was)

**a first time (that wasn't) (until it was)**

* * *

The first time someone mistakes them for being together, it doesn't happen at a bar and it's nnot Linda Park. Instead, it happens about two months earlier.

To be precise, it happens at the police station, shortly after (which is to say within an hour of) defeating Snart and his new associate.

As soon as Barry takes off the Flash suit—burned and bruised but undeterred—he speeds his way back to the station, beating even Joe, Eddie and Caitlin there. He waits on pins and needles (a phrase that he's never understood quite so well as he does now, having been simultaneously burned and frozen, yet feeling like waiting to see a safe and sound Caitlin is the most excruciating part of his day). When waiting by the stairs to his lab proves too challenging, he starts pacing by the front desk, wearing an imaginary path in the linoleum as he shuffles along. Officer Adam Nills, a stout fellow of nearly 60 with a short, scruffy beard shot through with gray, raises a brow at the behavior but continues at his own work.

After what seems like forever, Barry sees the flash of lights pull into the lot and he barely forces himself to let them walk in before he's striding down the hallway and scooping her into his arms, letting the movement hide the way his hands are shaking just slightly.

It's always so easy to be affectionate with Caitlin, but this is hardly affection. It's desperate and clinging and if he hadn't been so scared and felt so guilty, he might feel embarrassed as eyes fall on the pair of them, a shaking, tangled mess. But he doesn't even notice them and has no energy to spare for embarassment, especially when Caitlin pulls him even closer, burying her face against his collarbone while Barry runs a hand along her back and mutters an alternating prayer of apologies and 'thank God you're safe's'. They remain that way for a long time, ignoring the officers who eventually blink back their surprise and part to walk around them, holding tight and breathing deeply until they're both sure that they're both going to be okay.

It's only when his shaking (which is nothing at all like the vibrating that sometimes comes from moving too quickly, instead honest tremors borne of a mix of relief and terror colliding head on) subsides and her heart rate slows that they pull away. Barry slips on a warm but weary smile as he looks down at her and shakes his head. "Never again," he chokes, meeting her gaze as the sting of emotion gathers at the corners of his eyes. "I will never let anyone hurt you ever again." His voice thins and breaks halfway through, but he manages to get the words out. "I'm so sorry Caitlin."

Caitlin shakes her head and launches into her own apology. She's in the middle of it when they're interrupted by Joe calling from the opposite end of the hallway, standing next to Office Nills' desk while he watches the scene play out between them. His voice is gentle with understanding, a hint of rough emotion indicating just how worried he too had been for the young woman. "We need to interview Caitlin so we can let her go home."

They both nod and finish the delicate process of extricating themselves, but Barry grabs her hand before she gets too far away and Caitlin doesn't protest. Usually she's the one who needs a touch to calm and reassure, but today he feels like maybe he's the one who can't steady himself without feeling the warmth of her skin. Hands clasped together, he walks her to the interview room where Joe and Eddie are now waiting, hovering a long moment before he releases her and steps out, standing guard outside the door as if the action can erase the last two days of hell they've all been through. The door closes between them and Barry heaves a sigh.

Somewhere from behind him, he hears a familiar chuckle. "Your little lady is going to be just fine Barry, heard Joe say she was one hell of a tough customer."

He's torn at how to respond—Caitlin would absolutely bristle at anyone calling her little lady and he feels like he owes her a defense on that, but he gets caught on the other implication of Adam's words the moment he lets his anger subside. Feeling a little bit of a pang at the admission, foreign and quickly pushed away, he replies, "We're not like that Adam," and leaves it at that.

The older officer looks skeptical but shrugs it off easily, wearing the same old goodhearted grin Barry sees him wear every day. "If you say so Barry," he's placating him, but he doesn't have the energy to be annoyed—suddenly all he wants to do is sleep. He debates crashing on the bench outside the interview room, but all of a sudden, Nills's voice is filling the silence again. "Word of advice though kid," he's not the only officer to refer to Barry that way, but he's one of the few that Barry knows means it kindly. "A woman like her's one of a kind, don't wait too long to change your mind on that."

If there's more to say, Adam Nills doesn't say it, just turns back to work and starts calling around to other officers and filling out paperwork. Barry's off duty and refuses to leave his post, so he just ignores the bustle of officers around him.

He's half asleep standing on his feet thirty-five minutes later when the door finally opens and Caitlin steps out. She looks a lot calmer then before—Eddie and Joe have been careful with her and have clearly taken the time to debrief her from the experience. Barry resolves to thank them later, especially when Eddie says the magic words, "You're good to go Caitlin, why don't you head home for some rest. You deserve it."

In that moment, he steps forward, smiling hesitantly, not certain Caitlin will like his proposition. "I'll take you home Caitlin," he offers, surprised but pleased by the easy way Caitlin sidles over to his side the moment she spots him.

"That'd be great," since she doesn't have a car for a bit yet, still frozen and in police custody, even a flash-speed ride sounds wonderful.

So they walk out of the station and around a corner and then Barry scoops her up in his arms and takes her home—except home is his apartment and not hers, something that even Caitlin isn't too tired to miss.

"This is definitely not what my apartment looks like Barry," she explains, puzzled as he sets her down in front of an unfamiliar door, down an equally unfamiliar hallway.

"Nope, it's mine," he holds up a hand immediately, sensing her argument before she's even parted her lips. "And before you say anything, just hear me out. I don't think you should be alone tonight—I don't trust Captain Cold, you've gone through a lot and, honestly, I don't think I'm going to want to let you out of my sight for at least a day." A week really or maybe six, but he knows that's unreasonable. One night he can probably swing.

For a long, stretching moment they stand in front of his door watching one another. Caitlin still looks ready to argue—one of the many things she's good at—but Barry is tenacious as a badger and he's not going to give an inch on this one. Rather than add to his argument, he slides his key in the door and opens up to the living room of his surprisingly tidy home. "Fine," he hears her sigh, the second he steps in. Caitlin follows, closing and locking the door immediately behind her.

"Thank you," is all he can say in reply, relieved at the prospect of having her close, safe and sound and reassuring. He speeds off briefly, returning with a set of sweats he knows will be a little loose on her and nodding down the hallway. "You can use these for pajamas and take my bed for the night—sheets are all fresh." Advantages of super powers, after all.

For all her initial attempts at protesting, she takes the offered stack of cotton easily enough and treads barefoot down the hall to a bathroom to wash up and change. Ten minutes later she exits to find Barry piling blankets on his couch and gives a long glance in the direction of both his living room and bedroom. "Hey Barry," he turns, giving her a curious look, eyes soft. "Do you wanna just sit and watch a movie in your room for awhile?"

It's rare that Caitlin Snow allows her vulnerabilities show to anyone, but Barry seems to be the exception, even in this extreme case. It's a position he values intensely, knowing he's come to feel the same way about Caitlin. Office Nills might have been off on his assumption, but he hadn't been wrong that what they do have is special, something he values deeply, which makes it only natural to reply with a grin and an "of course", before scooping up his laptop and favorite blanket and flashing himself and a laughing Caitlin to his room, a movie playing before she even hits the comforter.

They fall asleep halfway through the movie and, save for the computer digging into his thigh, wake up the next morning comfortable and gravitated together. Barry starts to wonder about Adam's comment to second he opens his eyes to find a curtain of dark curls spilling across his pillow.

* * *

So this initially started out as a story about all the times people thought they were together but I clearly have lingering feelings about Caitlin's kidnapping and so this happened, even though I've already done a post-ep fic for that. No one has much seemed to mind so far, so hopefully you guys don't either.

I do have a follow up fic for this, which I'll post in the next few days if you guys like it. Plenty of stories coming, this one was initially written for Snowbarry week about a month ago-the 'firsts' prompt.

Let me know what you think-suggestions for improvement and other stories always welcome!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	30. The Sound of Sunlight

AN: direct, morning after follow up to last chapter.

* * *

_**The Sound of Sunlight**_

* * *

The first thing Barry notices when he wakes up, eyes still closed, still clinging to the last vestiges of sleep, is the cold, rigid feeling of something digging into his thigh—not the first time he's fallen asleep with his laptop. The next thing he notices, upon opening his eyes, is the curtain of dark curls spilling over his pillow—Caitlin. Clearly they'd fallen asleep watching the movie last night, both exhausted by the harrowing events of the last few days.

She looks peaceful now, he realizes, curled up next to him, mere inches away, buried in the dark blue flannel of his sheets. She's turned away from him, tendrils of her hair spreading from her pillow over to his, one leg bent and stretched backwards, her ankle hooking against his, her toes tickling his calf every time she moves a little in her sleep. With a blink of surprise, throwing off the curtain of sleep still determined to fuzz over his thoughts, Barry realizes that Caitlin is not the only one spanning the divide and creating points of contact between them: his right arm is thrown casually across her torso, weighing anchor along her hip bone, the curve of his thumb warm against the soft skin his too large sweatshirt has left exposed there.

His first thought is that he should move it, slowly and carefully (like backing away from an angry meta human or a wild animal), but his traitorous early morning frame of mind plays Benedict Arnold against him. It occurs to Barry that this is the best night's sleep he's had in a long time, that he likes waking up in a warm bed, soothed by the sounds of even breathing and the steady rise and fall of a ribcage below his lazily sprawled fingers. That it's Caitlin—persistent, strong, passionate Dr. Caitlin Snow—who happens to be in his bed, inducing these feelings, is somewhat worrying.

And that's when his mind skips unhelpfully to Adam Nills's comments the evening prior, his assumption that he and Caitlin are something more than just friends.

He's never given it much thought before and now it's suddenly all he can think about, the idea invading his mind as thoroughly as her presence is invading his senses.

Barry knows that the connection he has with Caitlin is something else entirely, that it absolutely defies explanation, that the word 'friend' has never felt inadequate before her but certainly does now. It's not that they're not friends (completely the contrary), it's just that there's all this indefinable more that clutters the construct in a way it's never done with anyone else, not even Iris. And he's known that for months, has let that knowledge warm him and inspire him in his darkest moments, but there's never been this element of intimacy added into the complication before. He has no idea what to make of it, of how comfortable and easy it feels, of the hint of longing it has suddenly awoken.

Lost in those swirling thoughts, Barry completely misses the change in her breathing—both the sound of it and the way it causes her skin to rise and fall beneath his palm—unaware that she's woken up until Caitlin is suddenly turning in his grasp, rolling six inches closer, his wrist now curled over her hip, the tips of his fingers skimming the small of her back. He does, however, notice how thoughtlessly they both readjust to the change in position, their bodies falling into a give and take without a hint of hesitation.

Barry gets an eyeful of warm brown as her lashes flutter open and is amazed when he manages to whisper an unbroken "good morning" without sounding like a guilty, or terrified, fool.

He should feel both those things, but instead he's too busy being mesmerized.

Because God, is it remarkable: the way he watches her eyes wake up, clearing slowly as a tentative smile curls around her lips to return the one that has involuntarily and reflexively set up camp on his own face. Her voice is equally muted, heavy with the weight of morning, when she replies back with a "good morning" and then a "sorry for falling asleep".

Face still pressed to his pillow, arm still curled around her and legs still flush against one of hers, Barry shakes his head as best he can, struggling through the distraction of so many foreign, fantastic sensations. "You needed it." He's not sure he really needs to keep whispering, but there's a small part of him that's afraid talking louder will pop whatever strangely beautiful bubble they've found themselves in. "Sorry for stealing half the bed." And he bravely gestures to the space between them (nearly negligible) with a tip of his forehead.

She breaks the bubble (except that it really doesn't) with the beautiful trill of her laughter (and if the sound causes his heart to stutter, it's just a reaction to the sudden volume, bright against the quiet). "Barry, it's your bed." If sunlight has a sound, that's it, he decides as she trails off into another quiet hum of humor, a little dazed by how calm she is about all this. "But it's okay, really. I think you were right last night: it was nice not to be alone. I don't think I would have slept very well after everything that happened."

"Me either," he replies honestly. Even if she'd been half an apartment away, he's pretty sure the distance would have felt like insurmountable galaxies.

His comment inspires a thoughtful look and a moment of contemplative silence, he watches them both unfurl across her face, momentarily fascinated by the way her eyelashes dance against her cheekbones. "We're kind of a mess, aren't we?" is what Caitlin decides on saying, a few heartbeats later, eyes meeting his once more.

Barry thinks that's kind of an understatement, at least given his train of thought the last half an hour. "Looks like it." She smiles at the easy way he accepts her assessment, so like the easy way he accepts everything else about her. "But I can't think of anyone better to be kind of a mess with."

And when that comment causes her to roll her eyes and laugh again, that sound of sunlight warming every corner of his room, his heart and the fears that even sleep hasn't completed dissipated, he knows once and for all he's in trouble.

(He wonders if those thoughts would even be there if it hadn't been for Adam Nills. He decides it doesn't really matter.)

* * *

I had a lot of fun playing with language and imagery in this one, so I apologize if it got hard to follow or wordy, sometimes my adjectives and commas get away from me. I just love exploring how close these two are emotionally and how that overlaps into their physical relationship as well.

Thoughts &amp; feedback always greatly appreciated!


	31. a not so un-date night

_**a not so un-date night**_

* * *

One of her favorite things about her relationship with Barry is that he grounds her—his very presence in her life is calming, reassuring and steadying, especially in those moments when she feels farthest from any of those things. Barry forces her to take breaks and breaths, to not worry about things she can't control and to live in the lighthearted moments whenever they come up. Barry Allen is good for her, in so many ways, and together they strike precisely the right balance. (Yin &amp; yang, Cisco will tease every now and then, when they're both being particularly themselves: her strict and tense, him laid back and lax and the dichotomy is causing them to be a little bit at odds. Despite the tension is sometimes creates, they always manage to equalize, inevitably creating a better solution in the act of meeting halfway. Cisco will grin knowingly in those moments, but they ignore him.)

Caitlin really does appreciate how flexible and giving he is, always understanding what she needs from him and more than willing to deliver (because all he wants is her happiness, and that knowledge is enough in and of itself to ensure that she is).

That is precisely how they end up here, traipsing through the store at eight o'clock on a Friday night—grocery shopping rather than going on the date they'd had planned, because it's been a busy week and she's pushed off errands in favor of helping the Flash the last four days. She'd felt so bad when she realized, getting ready to leave the lab a few hours ago, that she hadn't been to a store in over a week and that if she didn't go tonight she wasn't sure when she would. Noticing the way her lips had tugged down, first in thought and then in disappointment, Barry had immediately asked what was wrong. Writhing with guilt, knowing that they always work so hard to make date nights happen (neither wanting to sacrifice what they were building), she'd pasted on a smile and just shrugged.

"I just realized I haven't gone grocery shopping in a while, but I can find time later this weekend." It wasn't like she'd starve anytime soon, and she couldn't bring herself to break that silly, happy smile he'd been wearing when he'd come into the lab to drag her away.

But Barry had read between the lines (no doubt a result of years of working in forensic science) and had insisted they forgo dinner and a movie to hit up the grocery store.

They're currently about halfway through her list (meticulously arranged by shopping section), but it's taking them far longer than it really should. Barry leads them up and down the aisles, leaning on and guiding the cart, frequently circling back to consider some item he hadn't given a glance to the first time around. Every now and then he adds something not on her list, giving her a dodgy look and dropping it into the cart with a dramatic flourish, before continuing to move forward. For her part, Caitlin just follows beside him, arms brushing with every step, rolling her eyes at his antics, a fond grin playing at the edges of her lips.

Letting him pick out some groceries (and deviating from the list) is a small price to pay for his company.

They're both examining their snack options, since the night will now feature a movie at home instead of seeing the newest theater release, when something occurs to Caitlin. Barry is standing next to the cart, gazing at the shelves of options with far more concentration then they deserve, so he hardly notices her moving until she's firmly tucked into his side; his arm tugs her closer automatically. "Thank you, by the way."

Puzzled, but so comfortable with her near, his head swivels left to look down at her. "For what?"

"For giving up date night to help me grocery shop." He still looks utterly bewildered by her gratitude, his brow stitching together in that adorable way it does when he's feeling well and truly out of the loop. Leave it to Barry not to consider a last minute change of plans worth being thanked for, she supposes. Shaking her head, and staving off his protests, Caitlin hikes onto her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "I know you probably don't think it's a big deal, but it means a lot to me that you're always so flexible." And she knows that while for him it comes natural, it doesn't for her and that makes it all the more precious a gift.

Barry looks like he's ready to argue the point: perplexed but with dawning recognition and disbelief, but he thinks better of it before the words can tumble from his lips and just laughs instead, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I've got you, I've got food—looks like date night to me." And then she's laughing too because, god she loves him.

Just like that they're back to wandering the aisles, adding way more food than she expected but without a single disagreement or comment from her (maybe a few sarcastic eye rolls but Barry always grins in return a presses a quick kiss to her lips, so she keeps doing it). It isn't until they start to head for the checkout that Caitlin realizes there must be twice as much food as she'd had on her list: all of it food that Barry particularly loves, most of it revolving around breakfast. This realization does draw a comment from her, brow raised as she nods towards the small mountain of items he's added along the way. "Planning on staying the night, huh?" She asks, teasing as she gestures down at her cart.

He grins, knocking her shoulder with his. "Planning on making a very convincing argument for you to let me," he replies, cheekily, as they enter an aisle and (still a little too private for that conversation in front of a stranger) begin to fill the conveyer with their items. They bag, pay and head out to pack their purchases into the car. An hour later, snuggled up against Barry on the couch, a movie playing on the tv screen and the remains of dinner scattered across the table, Caitlin sighs in contentment.

She supposes it doesn't really matter how they spend date night, so long as they spend it together and it ends in relatively the same way—curled together, blinking back the morning light filtering through the curtains, debating the finer points of all their (far too) various breakfast options. Looks like date night indeed.

* * *

This was my response for February's Snowbarry week day 2 prompt: date night. Basically just some pure, pointless established-Snowbarry fluff because my favorite part about them is how easily they interact together. Comments, suggestions, etc are always most welcome.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	32. just what the doctor ordered

_**just what the doctor ordered**_

* * *

Barry watches the argument between Dr. Stein and Ronnie Raymond unfold from across the room, but his attention isn't really on the argument itself. Instead, his gaze is fixed on Caitlin's face: lingering on the way her lower lip is tugged between her teeth, skimming across the tension that's pulling at the corners of her eyes, stuck on the way her dark eyes are cast down at the floor. He wants to say something, to do something, to comfort her the way she always does for him (and he usually always does for her) but he knows that now is not the time. So instead, he watches for the signs of the argument's end and then he takes Martin Stein home before he returns to his day job, processing evidence and contemplating what to do next.

He's in the middle of a spectral analysis of some paint left behind at a car accident when he yawns and a light bulb goes off in the back of his mind. Snatching up his phone, Barry opens up his favorites menu and slides his thumb down to Caitlin's name, pulling up their queue of texts. Their previous messages cause him to chuckle while scrolling down, particularly the random bits of 'Summer Lovin'' lyrics he's been sending for the last two weeks every time he hits a lull in processing evidence. Caitlin's always a good sport about it, he likes to think they force her to pause and smile while she's working on something at the lab, much the same as their back-and-forth group texts with Cisco about old episodes of Bill Nye, Stephen Hawking and science pick up lines that he decides Cisco should try on the next girl he tries to ask out (which he's done before, with surprisingly mixed success) do. He knows that they make him smile, especially when he catches himself afterwards, humming the section he's most recently sent to her.

Shaking his head to clear those memories, Barry starts to tap out a message: _I don't know about you, but I could use a coffee break. Jitters in 15?_

He's not sure she'll even respond. She might be, rightfully, too caught up in Ronnie's return to meet up like they have started doing every now and then in the early afternoon, but there's a part of him that thinks his hunch is right, and she'll be grateful for the newly familiar tradition.

A vibration across his desk pulls his attention away from the results of his analysis not three minutes later, signaling Caitlin's reply. The message that pops up is short but it proves his hunch is indeed correct and brings another smile to his face: _See you shortly._

He finishes up his analysis, checks the other tests that are running, and then clocks out for his break, making the effort to arrive at Jitter's early and have Caitlin's favorite chai latte waiting when she walks in the door. The coffee shop is unusually empty for one o'clock in the afternoon but it works perfectly in his favor: when the ringing bell signals Caitlin's entrance, he's already at their usual table with both drinks waiting. It gives him the chance to watch her glance around the coffee shop, and then back out the door as if he'll appear behind her, before her dark gaze finally thinks to check their table. The sincerity in her surprised smile pulls an answering grin from Barry as he toes out her chair and she walks over to grab the offered seat.

"Were you just early to something Barry Allen?" It's a relief to hear that playful, teasing tone back in her voice, something that's been sorely missing the last few days as everything with FIRESTORM has come to a head, only for the two men to appear, totally unharmed, standing in the crater that should have signaled their death.

Barry shrugs, still grinning, amused by the opportunity to take her by surprise and draw out that tone. "Has to happen once in a while." He takes a drink of his own coffee, savoring the bite for a moment before turning his attention back to his friend. "How was pizza?" It's the best opening he can think of, to try and move into the topic he wants to address, and while it might not be a great transition, at least it works.

But it's not satisfying at all, the way her expression clouds minutely and the laughter chases out of her dark eyes. It is telling though and he supposes that is what he's trying to figure out, disappointed though it makes him. "Pizza was good, Ronnie's back at the lab talking with Cisco. I thought it'd be nice for them to have some time to catch up." Her voice doesn't have the eager edge he thinks it should, that he thinks his would, if his mother were suddenly back from what he'd thought was the dead. His worries stack upon themselves, leaving him a little overwhelmed with concern he can't help but let spill over.

"Is everything okay, Caitlin? You looked upset when he and Dr. Stein were arguing earlier. I wasn't sure if it was just the fight or if it was something else."

She gives an abrupt, ironic chuckle, simultaneously frustrated and grateful that of all people, it's Barry Allen who can read her most easily these days. Caitlin's glad for his friendship, feels so lucky for the connection and understanding they share, but she was hoping this would be the one thing that would go unnoticed. Leave it to him to see through all her overly cheerful smiles and attempts to smooth over her own concerns.

The silence stretches for a little while, Caitlin's usually so-sure fingers (unflinching when it comes to sewing him up, administering an injection or flying over a keyboard for research) tap absently against the side of her paper cup, gaze moving over the wooden surface of the table between them. Barry's heart thuds a little tightly in his chest, frustrated that he can't do anything but wait for her to be ready to talk (even if he knows, from a lifetime of experience, that it's the closest you can come to enough). After another few, long and stretching moments, he reaches a hand across the table to settle gently against hers. "Hey," and it's a bit of a relief when she raises her eyes to his, even if they're more far away then he'd like them to be. "We don't have to talk about it, but I'm here if you want to."

Like it always does, his good-hearted intentions break through the walls she attempts to construct, helped by the warmth of his comforting touch and the knowledge that Barry really does get it. "I know, I just feel a little torn." Caitlin begins, letting her nervous hands release her coffee while his slides back to his own cup.

"I spent so long thinking Ronnie was gone, and then when FIRESTORM first showed up, thinking it would have been better if he was, but now he's back and he seems fine," he knows she's been running every test she can remember or invent in an attempt to not raise her hopes falsely. "But I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about that."

She's lost him on that one, and the way the confusion reads as plain as a book on his face makes her laugh a little, even if the amusement is short lived. "It's been over a year Barry, since the accident." He knows: it's been nearly six months since he woke up from what Cisco likes to call his nine month siesta. "I'm not the same person I was then, and neither is he. He wants to go back to how things were before, just wants to get his life back together, and I understand that but…" There's a glisten of tears gathering in the backs of her eyes, which she wills away with a deep breath and a heavy pause. "I'm not sure if I actually can go back, now that I have the chance."

He gets that (and he knows that she knows that: that understanding is why they find it so easy to confide in and comfort one another. It's far from the only reason they're friends, but it's certainly why they've become so close so quickly) but he wishes he knew some way to make it easier. Although he'd like to think he knows exactly how he'd feel if his mother suddenly showed up in his life, he knows that he truly has no clue and also knows that the situation is infinitely different then the one Caitlin is facing. She'd mourned the loss of the man she'd loved and had finally been coming to terms with that loss. She was starting to move on with the new life she's been living and now those two distinctly different lives have come to a head, both vying for her future and pulling at the pieces of her too-abused heart.

"It's okay you know," Barry finally decides on saying, once he's given her words a little time to settle (he's pretty sure it's the first time she's admitted this to herself, let alone to anyone else; he knows that kind of confession needs a little time to sink in). "It's okay to not be sure, or to feel torn. As much as you like to believe you're the invincible Dr. Snow, who fights bad guys with super powers and stands up to psychopaths with cold-blasting guns, you actually are still human Caitlin." She rewards him with another one of those sincere, warm smiles he's been missing of late and a breathy exhale of a laugh bubbles up briefly as well. "You get to be uncertain, you get to be surprised, you deserve time to figure out what you want and how you feel."

She nods, expelling a sigh of relief, reassured that she's not horrible (or crazy) for feeling this way. "I know I just feel…"

"Guilty?"

Her eyes roll as he easily finishes her sentence. Seriously, when did Barry Allen start reading her like an abstract? "Yes, guilty. Ronnie is back and he's safe and I feel like I should be jumping for joy, not struggling to figure out what this means for my life."

It's comforting, that eye roll and the fact that she can still give him hell even as she's wearing the weight of the world on her shoulders. "You get to feel however you feel Cait," Barry reminds her. "And from what I can tell, Ronnie seems like the kind of guy who'll understand that, if you tell him, whenever you're ready to do that."

She appreciates the easy way that Barry validates her feelings, while reminding her that she does have control in this situation, that it's not spiraling outside of her grasp like she's been feeling it is. "You're right Barry, thank you."

And then all of a sudden, he's jumping in his chair, flailing a little, hands grasping for his heart dramatically. "Did Caitlin Snow just admit that I was right?" She reaches across the table to swat at his shoulder, but Barry intercepts her hand and catches it in his, giving a little squeeze. "Seriously though, feel what you feel and I'm here if you need to talk. Now," he adds, letting go and nodding toward the clock and the counter in turns. "I've got about ten more minutes of my lunch break before I have to speed back to the lab. I know I'm not the doctor here, but I feel like cheesecake is an acceptable temporary relief for conflicting emotions?"

She just laughs and insists on buying to say thank you.

Barry informs her that she doesn't need to thank him and buys them both gigantic slices of chocolate cheesecake over her protests.

Nine minutes later, as they're getting ready to leave, Caitlin gives Barry a hug, thanking him again and telling him that coffee and cheesecake was definitely just what the doctor ordered.

* * *

So I originally wrote this and posted it to tumblr prior to episode 14, based on the promos and clips that were released. I've gone through and made a few changes to fit it into continuity, so hopefully it all made sense based on the actual events of the episode.

Obviously would happen inside Fallout, just a little extra Snowbarry friendship-y scene with some Snowstorm implications. Your thoughts/ideas/etc are always most welcome!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	33. green eyed monster

green eyed [monster]

* * *

"Ow! How many more blood samples do you need to take Caitlin?" Barry normally takes Caitlin's tests in stride, but he's been stuck six times in the last hour and the experience is beginning to wear thin. He knows she's doing it for his own good, but that doesn't mean that he particularly enjoys being Caitlin Snow's pincushion.

Sighing, she carefully extracts a small vacuum tube of blood, replacing the needle with a ball of cotton almost immediately. "Sorry, this should be the last one. I need enough data to extrapolate exactly how long and how severely her effects are flooding your endocrine system so I can try and come up with a drug to stop it."

The her in question is their latest meta human, whose abilities allow her to manipulate body chemistry to induce attraction: a power she's been using to con various men and women to do her bidding, which includes several robberies around town. Having initially had no idea how she was controlling her victims, The Flash had gone in blind and been hit with a powerful blast of pheromones, leaving him totally out of it. Thankfully, their meta human had been caught enough by surprise at his entrance, that she had fled before taking advantage of the situation (something they doubted they'd get that lucky on twice). The distance had allowed Barry enough sense of self to return back to the lab, even if it meant she (and for a ittle while Cisco) have spent that last hour listening to him extol on the virtues of their mystery meta.

"I bet she could draw blood without it hurting," Barry murmurs, slipping back into his addled state without the pain to distract him.

"I'm sure she could," Caitlin agrees offhandedly, her voice tight despite her distraction. Frankly, she's going a little crazy, especially without Cisco as a buffer. As soon as Barry had been relatively clear headed enough to change, he'd taken the Flash suit to the other room, eager to examine any residue left behind and determine an efficient counter-defense system. Which means Caitlin has spent the bulk of her time floating between performing blood analyses, taking samples and listening to Barry rattle on about the beautiful stranger who'd knocked him silly. She's subsequently also spent the last hour clenching her teeth, trying to speak as little as possible, for fear of lashing out in frustration.

She knows it shouldn't bother her, knows that it's nothing more than chemistry that's leaving her boyfriend to wax poetic about the beautiful, green eyed woman with the soft, freckled skin and wild red hair, but all the same, she can't help it. It's making her more than a little jealous and tense, and she's adult enough to admit it, even if she's trying not to show it (she doesn't want to take it out on Barry, when logically she knows it's not his fault).

Instead, she purses her lips and takes the last sample over for analysis, pointedly ignoring his every comment, which seems to suit him just fine. Cisco comes in shortly thereafter and, thankfully, pulls Barry away to run some tests of his own, leaving Caitlin to blissful silence and the comfort of science.

By the time the boys come back to the lab, Dr. Wells in tow this time, they've perfected the suit and she's perfected a serum and it's time to neutralize Barry's infatuation. (And if she feels the tiniest bit of guilty satisfaction when she sticks him with the anti-hormone she's developed, well, no one needs to know).

* * *

With Lila Porter safely behind glass in the Cortex, Barry is more than ready to go home. Spending his day in a hazy mist of hormone-induced lust has left him with a buzzing headache (that even his superpowers don't seem capable of rapidly fending off) and a bad case of exhaustion. He's so out of it, he's not even paying attention to Cisco's ramblings. Instead he just vaguely mumbles his agreements, his mind caught up in thoughts of a movie, some take out and cuddling with Caitlin.

At least it is until he sees the line of her shoulder, walking a few feet in front of them without looking back, tense noticeably. Startling himself into awareness, he mentally backtracks to what he's just said and starts to tune into Cisco. Who is apparently bemoaning why bad things always happen to the hot ones: first the tragedy with Bette and now Lila, their manipulative thief. He's listing out her more attractive physical qualities, and Barry's just been going along with it—after having spent half the day going on about the woman himself.

What had Felicity once called him? A loveable dummy? Probably a kinder term for a moron who's spent an entire day (even coercedly) infatuated with another woman in front of his girlfriend and then, as soon as he's back in his right mind, starts agreeing with one of his best friends about the attractiveness of said woman. Yup, he's pretty sure even Felicity wouldn't sugarcoat that one.

He knows precisely how stupid he's been when Caitlin doesn't wait for him to change before declaring that it's been a long day and she's heading home, no invitation extended for him to join. He watches her go, feeling stupid, dismayed and frustrated all at once. When the sound of her heels disappears into the elevator, it's Cisco that voices his thoughts first. "How are you going to fix this one?"

* * *

Barry shows up at Caitlin's half an hour later with Italian from her favorite restaurant, cheesecake from the bakery down the road and the most apologetic, sheepish smile he can muster. The soft expression she greets him with is definitely a good sign.

"What's this all about?" She asks, confused as she invites him in, immediately starting to set everything up at the kitchen table, while he reflexively fetches wine and glasses.

"Figured I should probably apologize after today."

His explanation doesn't clear anything up. "Apologize? For what? It wasn't your fault: we're all at the mercy of body chemistry to some extent."

Now he looks confused. "I thought you were upset with me? For going on about Lila all day, and then agreeing with Cisco when he was talking in the Cortex. You left the lab in such a hurry when it was all done."

Caitlin's expression softens and she laughs slightly, even as she curls in on herself a little self-consciously, standing next to the table. "Oh Barry, I'm sorry. I wasn't mad at you, I was upset with myself for getting jealous." Which is true, she'd spent the entire afternoon tense and frustrated, fighting back the urge to lash out, desperate not to take it out on Barry. She thought she was old enough to be beyond petty things like jealousy and the taunting of her high school bullies, but today had proven that thought false. As soon as everything was said and done, she'd wanted nothing more than to go home and stew in her shame for letting the situation get to her.

"Wait, you were actually jealous?" Barry cannot imagine any world in which Caitlin Snow feels the need to be jealous of anyone, so he tells her as much. "Seriously Cait, you are the most brilliant, beautiful woman I know. Doesn't matter how many pretty redheads try and seduce me with their crazy pheromone powers—none of them hold a candle to you." Reaching out a hand, he grasps her wrist and tugs her into his arms, dropping a kiss against the top of her head. "The only thing I could think about every time I got clear of that haze was how much I wanted to crash on the couch, cuddle with you and nap off this hormone hangover."

"Oh yeah?" She asks, smiling and turning in his arms to catch his gaze.

"Definitely." He seals the word with a kiss and they both breathe a sigh of relief, grateful that the only green eyes between them belong to a superhero and not a monster.

* * *

So, not a lot of crazy jealousy here, just a little below the surface simmering. I think Caitlin's level headed enough that she wouldn't hold someone's powers against Barry, so instead I made it a more internal conflict for her, I hope that's alright.

I do apologize wholeheartedly for that ridiculously cheesy ending line, which ties in with my title. I couldn't resist, I love puns and the like.

Hope you liked it, suggestions, ideas and the like always appreciated!


	34. something worth being jealous of

Something Worth Being Jealous Of

* * *

He doesn't miss it—the look they exchange in the middle of the crater, the victorious smile they share—but he also doesn't think too much about it. His brief glimpses into Caitlin's life during his forced stint as FIRESTORM have shown him enough to know they're friends. Yet, as the day wears on, the looks and exchanges begin to add up and he can't help but wonder.

In the wake of his argument with Stein (the first he's ever been able to have aloud, no second consciousness drawing him back, subverting him into a position of silence), he notices the way Caitlin's face tenses, worried and wary. He also notices the way Barry, pushing off from his spot on the wall to help bring Stein home, registers the change as well. He may be out of practice reading people, may not know Barry Allen very well at all, but it's not hard to read the flash of concern that crosses his face as his eyes linger on Caitlin or the look of resolution he wears when he turns his attention instead to his charge—it's a look that says there's something he'd rather be doing right in that moment. It takes him by surprise: he's never known anyone who could interpret Caitlin's emotions as easily as he can. Ronnie reminds himself that 14 months is a long time, that Caitlin's made new friends in his absence, friends that have obviously helped her cope and that it will take time to adjust to that.

And then she's smiling warmly at him and his attention shifts solely back on that smile…at least until it's somewhat diverted by a growling stomach and a promise of pizza.

* * *

That nagging, strange feeling that had first stuttered to life in between the space of brief glances flares up again at dinner, just stubborn enough to be noticed over the heavenly combination of Caitlin and pizza (he really wishes garbage had been an exaggeration). They're catching up, or rather, she's catching him up on the seeming lifetime's worth of happenings the past fourteen months have brought, her eyes bright and a grin, completely and uncharacteristically open, lighting up her face. (Not that Caitlin has ever been cold, but she's always been more reserved with her emotions, especially in public. He's not sure what to make of this, even as he bathes in the warmth of it.). Ronnie has devoured an entire pizza as she's told him stories, hand gestures wide and roaming, enthusiastically recounting tales of Cisco and Dr. Wells and Barry Allen. It doesn't miss his notice that the majority of her stories skip nine months of her life, that her eyes don't shine like stars until she begins to recount her adventures with the Flash and he wonders if that's what unsettles him—the frequency of his appearances in all her favorite stories, the way his daringly foolish choices lift the corners of her lips even as she's bemoaning his inability to think before acting. But he pushes away the thought, so sure it's the knowledge that he'd sacrificed himself to save her and yet she's been in near constant danger that causes that little wriggling sensation half burn and half chill in his stomach.

But then really, he supposes it hardly matters. Because she's here, alive and real and happy and he's with her and that's all he's hoped for, all those months living in the corners of his own body, longing to find her but lacking the control to do so. And so he laughs along and smiles because she does and then begins to change the subject because all he wants to do is think about the future, something he's spent too long fearing he'd never have.

He asks her to leave with him, to abandon the city and the lab that's taken so much and just start over.

He doesn't expect the response he gets, the way Caitlin digs her heels into the ground without a second thought. He supposes should have, he knows exactly how she feels about change: Caitlin is all about control, about rigid structures and following the prescribed path, but he's always been the exception, the one person who can make Caitlin Snow thaw a little and try new things. He's so sure that the second he brings up what has been bouncing around in his mind every moment he dared to hope of escape, that she'll be ready to leave in an instant, eager for the prospect of a life together, a life they've spent too long believing they'd missed. He's so, so terribly wrong.

Apparently, friendship is not the only thing that's grown in his absence but Caitlin herself. She doesn't even hesitate at the risks she's put herself in front of, shrugs them off with an ease the woman he'd once known would never have done. Instead, she talks about Barry and the Flash, about helping people, about hunting down meta humans with the same quiet, insistent passion that he's only ever heard her use to describe science: DNA and proteins and ATP.

That strange feeling redoubles its efforts as she makes her own case and for the first time since he woke up a few hours ago, clothes torn to shreds but alone in his own body, he feels that newfound sense of peace and certainty leave him.

Still, they are fire and ice and they've always found a way to meet in the middle before, so he makes his petitions, confesses his frustrations.

He's almost grateful for the interruption (of the waiter, certainly not the military attack) because despite his best efforts, his absolute honesty, the pained look on Caitlin's face, the way her expression is utterly torn, does not settle well with him. Ronnie's heart sinks with the knowledge that he has lost (the discussion, the decision, the way they would have once been content as long as it was the two of them against the world) and he scrambles to find more to add to his appeal, desperate in a way he's been too often of late.

But one interruption follows another and the next thing he knows Eiling is there and Barry has come to the rescue, only to be injured. Caitlin and Cisco come just in time and they make their escape, but he doesn't miss the way she spends the trip to the lab hovering and anxious, her attention, once it confirms he is unscathed, completely on the Flash.

(Granted, his is pretty focused on Barry too—the man is covered in barbs and in a world of pain; Ronnie refuses to let him walk in, too grateful for his help in that alley).

* * *

They trade jokes with ease, Barry and then Cisco jumping into what should be a serious conversation with lighthearted comments that pull a hesitant smile to Caitlin's lips, despite the worry still clouding her eyes. Without even time to regroup, they're all hatching a plan around him and even Dr. Stein, who had kept him in the back of his own mind for over a year, easily gives in to the reassurance of their dynamic.

He doesn't need Barry to tell him that everything has changed (the lab, the world, the love of his life): he sees it. Sees the way Caitlin and Barry exchange a look of resolution, silently communicating what needs to be done. Sees the way Cisco strides out, confident and sure of what he needs to do. Sees the way us refers to all of them, a solid unit that he's teetering so far on the edge of that he feels alone in this crowded room.

It's a feeling that lingers as they approach the West household, breached only briefly when Joe West offers him a beer, though it returns immediately as they build a lie around him (and yeah, it's an awkward, stuttering lie, but they still don't seem to need him to tell it and that's the part that wriggles in his gut).

But again, he reminds himself that he's just missed a lot of time, that these are patterns he can acclimate to, perhaps join if he really can't convince Caitlin to leave.

* * *

He thinks they're all a little delusional, all of them together, so sure he can help with something he doesn't even understand, until he feels a chill (sharper, more prevalent then the tiny one that's been building in his gut all day).

He may not completely understand this connection they have, but he's grateful in those moments when all it takes is a few words from Barry to calm Caitlin enough to let him to finish cutting 'where' into his arm. She doesn't look any less worried—less horrified—but she stands silently hovering over him and lets him finish (Barry's gaze is strained and on her the whole time, watching with a fierce protectiveness that surprises Ronnie with its intensity).

She lets him carve into his arm just like she lets him go shortly thereafter, despite her protests, trusting that both of them will come back alive (her gaze catching Barry's the moment they pull away from their kiss, seeking his reassurance for Ronnie's protection and his own safety as well. Barry gives it, unquestioning).

* * *

It's strange, watching her pull up the shirt of another man, fingers skimming worriedly against his neck, the way concern and guilt war with one another in her dark eyes. But it's also reassuring, that tentative, hopeful smile that stretches across her lips when he walks in, and lingers as he and Stein separate.

(_Jealousy_, Stein tells him in those brief moments before they split, as his subconscious lingers on that little feeling that had reared to life and disappeared as suddenly as it had been doing all day. His immediately mental protests only garner what almost seems like an affectionate laugh from the older man. _Jealousy for the comfort he's become for her, when you couldn't be. For the relationship you'll never fully understand_. Mentally, Ronnie nods and adds, _for the time he'll get to have with her that I won't_.)

It hurts, but those same looks that sparked that little pang of jealousy are reassuring now, as he says goodbye. Because he knows that Caitlin is strong enough to get through all this, and that Barry will be there to help. It hurts but he supposes, as he and Stein make their exit, that it's a good kind of hurt, the kind you can live with.

He's glad he can leave her behind with something worth being jealous of.

* * *

Just a tag to 1x14, I wrote awhile back for Snowbarry week, looking at Caitlin and Barry's relationship through Ronnie's eyes. Can be read as Snowbarry friendship or something more and is obviously Snowstorm as well. Those little Caitlin/Barry moments in the episode, and how I imagine Ronnie would feel noticing how close they've become so easily and relatively quickly, just fit so well with the jealousy theme during Snowbarry week that I had to write this. Not necessarily a romantic jealousy, just that he's found a way into her life and has been there for Caitlin when Ronnie couldn't. But then I think Ronnie is a goodhearted enough person to be grateful for that when he realizes he can't stay.

I think mostly this is a homage to how important I find their friendship and how happy I will be as long as that continues, whomever any of them end up with.

Feedback always greatly appreciated!

Best Wishes &amp; Take Care,

A.O.R.


	35. jealousy & faithfully

**jealousy &amp; faithfully**

* * *

"That is not the face I expected to you be wearing at my wedding Barry Allen," Iris West (Thawne really, as of just a few hours ago) says, sliding onto her chair at the head table in the banquet hall. She's wearing a beautiful white dress, her hair pulled expertly back and has the same mischievous grin on her face that got him in trouble so often as a child.

Blinking, startled from his preoccupation, Barry looks up and grins reflexively. "Sorry Iris! You know how happy I am for you and Eddie right?" He feels like he needs to immediately amend—uncertain what his face looks like but pretty sure it's not a positive one and not wanting his bed friend to think for a second it's because of what's happening around them.

Because she knows him almost better than he knows himself, Iris just laughs and waves her hand (her beautiful new ring glinting in the low light of the candles) at his apology. "I'm teasing Barry, seriously. Of course I know you are, your speech was beautiful." She feels incredibly lucky that, over the years, they have all become such a tight knit group of friends that Eddie had wanted Barry as his best man. In fact, it had been Eddie to notice the cloudy expression Barry was wearing and asked her about it, prompting her visit in the first place. "Really though, if you keep looking at them like that, you're going to start his suit on fire."

A flush steals across his face, something she can easily detect even in the low light, clearly not expecting to be caught staring. (It shouldn't surprise him, this is Iris: one of the best reporters in Central City, noticing things is her job.) Despite his embarrassment, he doesn't actually move, so Iris just follows his gaze pointedly, smiling at the picture before them: Caitlin Snow, dressed in silver and blue like her other two bridesmaids, curls bouncing and a smile on her face, dancing with Eddie's brother, whom she'd been paired with for the wedding party. The two had been talking amiably though the whole experience, and if she's being honest, Iris has quite enjoyed the way their friendly interactions have been distracting Barry at every turn. About time the loveable dummy started to catch on and pay attention.

"Seriously Bar, if you want to dance with her, go and ask her. Rob's just being friendly because Caitlin's one of the only people he knows here that isn't related to him."

He sighs, heavily, finally turning his gaze away (the first time all night, Iris suspects) only to shake his head and address his best friend. "She looks like she's having fun, I don't want to interrupt." The dejection in his tone is audible, Iris isn't sure if she should sigh or roll her eyes at him.

She does know he's being an idiot. She knows that he's jealous, every time she catches him watching them together, he starts to sulk—torn between wanting to be with her and not wanting to tear her away from anything that makes her happy. So a selfless idiot really, but an idiot nonetheless. "If you really think she'd rather be dancing with him than you, then I am completely taking away your brilliant, genius nerd card: you don't deserve it."

His eyes fly up to Iris's immediately, surprised. Grinning, she shakes her head fondly and lays a hand against his arm, squeezing out her support and reassurance. "You've been watching her with puppy dog eyes for months Barry, and you've totally missed her doing the same but the rest of us have noticed the way you close yourself off whenever she talks to some other guy." They all go out fairly regularly, enough for Iris to know that this brooding isn't a one-time thing. Enough for everyone to know it isn't a one time thing. "So go out there and do something about it."

And with that she stands, gives his shoulder a little shove and goes to find her husband.

Barry waits for the song that's playing (fairly upbeat, more of a group dance than a partner one) to fade out and is a little surprised by the timing of the next song—Faithfully, by Journey: slow, solemn, one of his favorites. (He's a little less surprised by the choice when he sees Iris has made a pit stop by the DJ and is now shooting him a grin. Barry has spent too much time as The Flash learning that perfect opportunities are rare even when you can time travel, so up he gets and takes the hint).

_Sending all my love_, is echoing over the dance floor when Barry, wearing his most winning smile, taps on Rob Thawne's shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" Eddie's brother has the exact same, easy-going grin that Eddie does, which makes Barry feel a little guilty as he immediately passes Caitlin's hand to him (he'll later learn, through Eddie, that even Rob had read the signals between the two and had known he never stood a chance, which will make Barry feel both better and worse).

But the smile on Caitlin's face, soft and warm and pleased, erases those feelings immediately. "I was wondering when you were going to ask me to dance," she teases, tangling easily with him, both so familiar with one another. He wraps his arms around her, shrugging beneath the press of her hands.

"Sorry to keep you waiting Dr. Snow, I was—"

"Jealous." She cuts him off, her smile now a knowing grin.

He has the decency to look sheepish, the flush from earlier returning. Apparently he has been particularly obvious about his growing affections for his favorite doctor and teammate. "Maybe just a little. Forgive me?"

"Only if you sing for me." So he does, tugging her a little closer and laughing a little when she joins in, off beat and out of tune and utterly adorable all the same.

* * *

So, in case you haven't noticed, I don't really do big/angry jealousy because a) I just don't think I write it well, b) I'm not a big fan of that in relationships, I mean a little jealously, you bet, but none of that possessive stuff and c) as we've seen from the Iris/Eddie stuff, Barry isn't really like that and the one time he is, is completely ashamed (rightfully so) by it (with the Rainbow Raider emotions stuff).

Totally wanted to make a nod to the Barry/Iris friendship and want to start writing some more Iris/Caitlin and whole group friendship stuff as well. I really like the idea of them all eventually being close friends, even if canon events likely won't make that a reality. Feedback always greatly appreciated!

Best Wishes &amp; Take Care,

AOR


	36. you're my favorite time of day

**you're my favorite time of day**

* * *

Barry's favorite part of the day is that stretch of time between going to bed and falling asleep.

There's nothing he loves more than sinking into bed, filled with the satisfaction of a day well spent, content to know that everything he holds dear is safe and sound and that the world will keep spinning forward for the next few hours at least.

Of course, the very best part of those magic minutes is the person who sinks into bed beside him and cuddles in close, threading herself into his arms with the warm ease of familiarity and feeling for all the world like home.

He loves this time of day best because it's just them: him and Caitlin in their own little world, talking about everything and anything that they can think of. Some nights the conversation is nothing more than a conclusion to the day, final thoughts on their adventures (and misadventures), updates on anything they missed, an extended analysis of some event that hadn't occurred until later. Some nights they talk about their pasts, skittering around all the little pieces that have brought them together until one day, finally, they'll both be able to appreciate the whole puzzle for the picture it's making now. And some nights, his very favorites, they talk about the future and his heart beats heavy in his chest at the way those talks are littered with 'us' and 'we' and 'together'. He always falls asleep smiling, lulled under by the steady music of her breathing.

* * *

Caitlin's favorite time of day is that stretch of time between waking up and getting ready.

There's nothing more she loves than waking up in a warm bed, filled with the satisfaction of a good night's sleep, content in the knowledge that the world around her is peaceful and quiet and slowly waking up to a beautiful new day, filled with possibility.

Of course, the very best part of those magic minutes is the person she gets to wake up beside, cuddled in close with his arm slung around her waist and his nose buried in her hair, pulling her tighter with each move she makes, feeling warm and familiar and like just like home.

She loves this time of day best because it's just them: her and Barry in their own little world, talking about everything and anything in that sleepy, sluggish morning voice he has. Some mornings, the conversation is nothing more than their plans for the day: a delicate balance of work to be done, errands to run, lives that may need saving, groceries that need to be purchased, the banal, everyday chores that build a routine that seems so much less routine because they do it together. Some mornings they talk about their nightmares, skittering around all the little details that hold fresh pain, until one day, finally, they will both ready to deal with the reality of whatever fresh heartache they've suffered, so that they can move through it together. And some mornings, her very favorites, they talk about their dreams and her heart beats heavy in her chest at the way those dreams are littered with 'us' and 'we' and 'together'. She always meets the rest of her day smiling, warmed by the memories of those conversations and all the possibilities that they hold.

* * *

This was written for Snowbarry week's 'opposites' prompt. I decided to go with a dichotomy of their favorite times of day and capitalize on the idea that they like opposite times of day for the very same reasons, hence the large amount of repetition.

Hope you guys enjoy, feedback &amp; suggestions more than welcome.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes!

AOR


	37. Dichotomy

**Dichotomy**

* * *

It's cold out, and damp, just right for snow except it's not snowing, so Caitlin turns up the collar of her woolen coat against the breeze and snuggles a little deeper against the heavy gray fabric. From beside her, a bark of laughter creates a cloud of condensation in the air and a spark of warmth against her beating heart, and her dark eyes sweep over to the origin point of two such polar reactions. Barry Allen is likewise in his coat but he is looking perfectly content: all stretched limbs and no hat, hands jammed habitually into his pockets but with the bare flesh of his wrists exposed, unperturbed by the cold. "You could have just said it was too cold to walk Caitlin, we could have taken your car."

They're on their way to lunch, a sandwich shop just a few blocks down from the police station, one of their favorite places to visit on days when she sneaks out of the lab to distract him from whatever case he's working for Detective Singh. "It didn't seem this cold out when all I had to do was walk from the parking lot into the precinct," she explains with a perfectly in tune shrug and shiver, immediately attempting to bury herself farther into her coat—something she's been doing unsuccessfully for the last block and a half. And besides, she likes their early afternoon walks, the only real chance she gets to stretch her legs and get a little exercise, given that she spends most of her time bunched up beneath her computer screen, doing research and running experiments and helping call out advice while he's fighting the bad guys.

Rather than comment, Barry does what he does best: he fixes the problem. Reaching out his right hand, he catches her elbow where it's awkwardly splayed out, her hands dug as snugly into her coat pockets as she can manage them. Using that point of connection as an anchor, he draws her into his side and she drowns in the depths of her gratitude for their height difference. An easy sentiment to muster when tucked perfectly into the grooves of a certain speedster who seems to radiate heat like some sort of oversized, constant, exothermic reaction. The effect is instantaneous, even if she knows it's scientifically invalid: she feels warmer by several degrees, content enough to wish the restaurant was still blocks away, even as they turn the corner and catch the scent of fresh bread filtering out from the open kitchen window at the far end of street.

Determined to make good on the time available, Caitlin braves the chilly late February air to pull one hand from her pocket and wrap it easily around him, finding his pocket on the far side and seeking shelter there instead. The action allows her to tip her cheek against his shoulder and while it exposes the opposite side of her neck to the steady winter breeze, she doesn't really feel it. The familiar comfort of being wrapped around Barry is more pervasive and effective than the warmth of the wool.

She knows he feels the same by the quiet, contented hum he gives, which trickles its way into becoming some sort of melody she can't quite place without the accompanying lyrics. (It hardly matters; the action itself helps to melt her from the inside out anyway, words an unnecessary element to her unending affection).

In moments like these, with the sharp bite of another lazy gust buffeting them while they cross the road, it's easy to dream hopefully of spring and warmth and fresh plants and the sound of crickets and rainstorms but Caitlin doesn't. Sometime between her fiancé dying and falling in love again, she's learned to appreciate the idea of dichotomy, to see the value of each extreme and the way that they themselves, by existing in contrast, give one another value. She appreciates the feeling of warmth-Barry close and solid, radiating equal parts heat and happiness-because she has known cold-the devastating loss of a first love, drained of all hope and joy. And if there can be beauty and purpose and salvation to be found in both of those dichotomies, surely there is appreciation to be won as deeply in winter breezes as summer ones.

* * *

I love dichotomies, I love contrast and introspection and from that, and with the opposite theme from snowbarry week, this story was born. Just a brief little winter-y ramble looking at an established Snowbarry relationship. Hope you guys enjoyed!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

A.O.R.


	38. tether me at the River Styx

_**tether me at the River Styx**_

* * *

The lab is silent for a heartbeat too long, all four of them scattered in their usual places, looking thoughtful. Dr. Wells sits in his chair, situated nearest the entryway, the three youngest members of their team angled in his direction. He looks solemn, his eyes sweeping slowly from behind his glasses, moving to each in turn and watching as they contemplate the hypothesis that he's just put forth.

Cisco's lips are curled into a hint of his usually wide grin, as if uncertain whether or not he's allowed to ratchet up to his normal levels of enthusiasm, given the duality of this idea. Still, even the dire implications can't entirely manage to dampen his nerdy excitement, so the hint of a smile remains as he sits atop the far worktable. In truth, he's itching to go run calculations, but he waits for someone else to react first (difficult though that is).

Barry's leaned against the open half of Caitlin's desk, exactly where he'd been five minutes earlier, when Dr. Wells had entered the room with his theory. He and Caitlin had been discussing the leading time travel theories, with Cisco jumping in with his usual bout of mixed movie references and related ideas, dissecting the probabilities and possibilities and how he could manage it—if it would even matter if he could. Now he pulls himself up to actually sit on the table, toes just skimming the floor as he watches his mentor, waiting for the other shoe to drop: it can't really be as simple as just running fast enough, can it?

Caitlin is at her desk chair, two feet from Barry's hanging legs, spun around and away from her computer, her gaze downcast from where it had previously rested on Dr. Wells. That Barry could reach a terminal, maximum velocity of some sort, activate this conceptual 'speed force' and gain the ability to travel through time: she would say it's impossible, but she's learned to ignore that word completely these days. Regardless, it sounds insanely dangerous, and she's not sure that she likes it. Messing with time is one thing (one large, terrifying, implication-heavy thing), but the damage that it could do to Barry? That's something else all together. There's nothing that's worth that price and if she needs to be the one to remind them, then she will.

So she drops that other shoe: "And how exactly is Barry suppose to survive at that speed? Even his suit," and it's a mark of the weight of this possibility that Cisco doesn't interrupt to claim his ownership of said clothing item, "won't be able to stand up to that kind of intensity. And even if he does survive, will he be able to control that power and get back here?" She feels Barry's gaze fall on her, but doesn't let hers stray from where it's raised to meet Dr. Wells's. He should know by now that she's never going to let him take risks just for the sake of seeing what could happen.

Wells knew it would be Caitlin who would speak first, knew she would see flaws over potential, so he smiles at her stalwart predictability, her immediate desire to jump in to defend and protect (they're all remarkably alike in that capacity, Caitlin and Barry especially). "Are you familiar with the legend of Achilles and the River Styx?"

Both boys shrug, but Caitlin nods before beginning a tentative explanation. "In Greek mythology, bathing in the River Styx was a way to gain invulnerability, as long as you could survive the ordeal. To achieve it, a hero had to choose a part of themselves to remain vulnerable and concentrate on what tied them to the mortal world. Achilles was a baby, his mother held him by his heel and it was love for her that kept him from burning alive in the river. That's why his heel was his weakness, it was his tie to her and to mortality."

Barry and Cisco both glance at her, surprised. A flush of color spreads along her cheeks, light as an early winter flurry but something that Barry picks up easily at his meager distance. Feeling his eyes on her again, she looks his way this time, relieved at the playful, teasing smile she finds there. It seems to take a bit of the weight out of the conversation they're all having. "I liked astronomy as a kid," she explains, ignoring the other two men in the room. "And all the stars are named after the Greek stories."

His laughter, fond and warm, further breaks the gathered tension. "So basically what you're saying, is that if I concentrate on something that matters to me, something that ties me to this place and time, you think I can survive the force of the speed I'd need to go to time travel and make it back here?"

"Obviously the mechanics are a bit more complicated then that but yes, that's my theory, Mr. Allen." Harrison Wells says, in that voice he always uses, that makes him sound more certain than supposing, as if he's the voice of experience rather than conjecture. It's tone that often leaves Cisco in awe, Barry in confidence and Caitlin in knots.

"I guess there's only one way to test that. Should we start trying tomorrow?"

.

Barry arrives early the next morning, grateful that it's Saturday and that he has the day off from police work. He's also grateful his hunch has played itself out and he'd stopped for coffee on the way in, because Caitlin's beat him there, just like he thought she would. Smiling, he walks quietly up to her desk and sets down the chai latte he's picked up for her.

"Good morning."

Turning in her chair, she can't help that some of his optimism sinks into her bones, especially as he nods to the cup waiting for her. "Morning Barry," she greets around a sip, seconds later. This discussion will probably go better with a little caffeine in her system.

"I know what you're going to say," he starts, taking up his favorite spot, leaned against her desk, scarcely two feet from her chair, watching her with smiling green eyes that seem to read her every thought even as they form. "But I'm not worried. Dr. Wells says he's run all the calculations and he's sure it'll work, as long as I can get up to speed and concentrate on something that will guide me back here."

"We don't know that that will actually work Barry, and it seems like a stupid gamble to make on some complicated math and a Greek myth." It's one thing when he's doing something stupid to save someone's life; it's another thing altogether when there's no real payoff here, nothing tangible and sure.

"The science is solid Caitlin, we all agreed on that. The rest, well, it can't hurt to try. And if it starts to feel like I'm going too fast and I can't handle it, I'll just slow down. No harm done, I promise." She hates how he always makes it seem so easy, like risking his life is just part and parcel for the day. "Like I said," he adds, shifting his weight so he can nudge against her leg with the side of his sneaker, "I'm not worried."

Caitlin also hates that even when she doesn't want to be reassured, Barry's casual promises, so earnest and sincere and easily given, do reassure her. It's not like he'll listen anyway, she supposes, recognizing she'll never win and sighing as she shakes her head and grips her cup a little tighter. "You should worry more," is what she settles on saying, knowing Barry will recognize the sound of her giving in.

He does and he grins, taking a drink of his own coffee. "You wouldn't worry any less, Cait." Barry laughs at the way she rolls her eyes and then tries to hide her own smile. "Besides, even if I did something stupid like get stuck in time somewhere, I know you'd come find me just so you could chew me out for being reckless." His heart gives a victorious stutter as she gives up and laughs along with him and they start running more calculations about how to make this all work. Cisco and Wells join them a little while later and they get started in earnest.

.

It takes some time to work up to it, but he's running faster than he's even run before. He thinks, in some ways, it's like once you know you can do something, the obstacles start to fade away. You know it can be done, so you just start to do it.

Barry takes a deep breath and kicks it up another notch and all of a sudden, things start to get sluggish and the blurry world around him starts to both fade and become sharper. He feels a little bit like he's being torn in all directions and he thinks maybe he's about to hit what Dr. Wells had called the speedforce. Trying not to panic, he casts his mind to the things that tie him to his life: he thinks of his parents first, but it's no good—the ripping, rending sensation doesn't ease. He thinks about Iris, his very best friend whom he loves dearly (even if he knows now it's not that kind of love, it's still important and he still cherishes it and her) and he thinks about Joe and how much he owes him. The sensation is beginning to hurt, like little pieces of him are ripping open.

Which is when he thinks about Caitlin and he thinks maybe he should slow down. He clearly can't do this after all and he promised her that he'd been careful, that he'd quit if he needed to.

But in the moment that Caitlin flashes to his mind (her worried voice early that morning, her rolling eyes and beaming smile when he'd teased her about tracking him down, the way she'd squeezed his hand just before he started running and told him to be safe), the pain and the tearing begin to lessen.

So he thinks about her more.

He thinks about the way that Caitlin's always there for him, the first one to speak up in his defense, to try and stop him from doing something stupid, to sooth and stitch together his wounds when he inevitably does something stupid anyway. He thinks about how they just get each other, how their similar losses connect them and how their shared passion for science, for musicals, for cheesy rom-coms and karaoke bars just builds that connection. He thinks about the way that nothing calms him quite the way a hug from her can, the way she rolls her eyes when she's annoyed with him or when she's just trying to pretend to be, and the way her dark eyes light up when she really laughs. He thinks about the curve of her smile, the way she bites her lip when she's nervous. He thinks about how her dark curls bounce when she shakes her head at the corny jokes Cisco makes, and how she constantly tucks the strands behind her ears when she's working on her computer. He thinks about the way Caitlin likes to talk baseball with Joe (even though she doesn't understand half of it) and how she and Iris can spend hours going over the plot of some book they've both read. He thinks about how she cares about everyone and how he cares about her.

And then it doesn't hurt anymore and he should be amazed that he's reached the speedforce, should be captivated by the knowledge that he can run through time, but all he can concentrate on is the blinding realization that the only time and place he really wants to be in is the present with Caitlin.

So he slows down carefully, concentrating on her, and before he knows it, he's walking at a normal pace on the treadmill, in a room surrounded by Cisco, Dr. Wells and Caitlin—which is where his eyes immediately go. "Told you I could do it." He says, breathing a little heavily (winded as much by the relief in her expression, as the effort he's exerted).

"So you did it, you hit the speedforce?" Dr. Wells looks tentatively elated, an expression that breaks for full joy when Barry nods.

He hears Cisco cheer but he's already walking over to Caitlin. "Told you not to worry."

She rolls her eyes, shakes her head and smiles. "I'm always going to worry Barry, but I'm glad you're alright."

.

A few hours later, after plenty of discussion and trials and data, things settle down for the night. They go out for drinks to celebrate, even Wells has one before heading home, and two drinks later, the rest of them agree it's past time for rest.

Barry offers to walk Caitlin home and a few blocks later, they say goodnight to Cisco and continue on their way. Now that they're out of the crowded bar, and away from the well meaning curiosity of their other best friend, Barry finally feels like it's the time to tell her what he's wanted to all day, except he's not sure how to go about it. So he spends several minutes debating and finally just says it, two blocks from her apartment.

"It was you."

Puzzled, Caitlin pauses on the sidewalk. "What was?" She looks adorably bemused, standing in the middle of the sidewalk, bathed in the yellow lamplight of eleven thirty at night.

"The thing that tied me to here and now." She looks even more adorable standing in that same spot with the dawning light of understanding in her eyes, a hint of a blush stealing across her cheekbones. He elaborates. "I felt like I was being torn up, so I started to think about the things that mattered most to me. At first, nothing was working, so I decided I should slow down since I'd promised you I wouldn't push it, but as soon as I thought about how you looked when I made you that promise this morning, it got a little easier. So then I kept thinking about you and it kept getting easier and I realized it was you. You're what makes right now the most important time and place in my life, my piece of mortality."

He pauses, because he's afraid to keep going, to overwhelm her with the realization that had so thoroughly struck him. But that fear eases immediately as a warm, slow smile spreads across her lips and she looks up to really meet his gaze for the first time since he's stopped. "I'm your tether?"

"The reason I won't drown in the River Styx," he confirms, raising a hand to her cheek, smoothing a curl back and settling his palm against her neck. They both tip towards each other and meet in the middle and Barry knows that the next time he needs to move that fast, it will be a whole lot easier to focus on what really matters.

Time travel may be complicated, but this certainly isn't.

* * *

I've never read the comics, so the details of speedforce/etc are definitely off. Also, this was written before they time traveled in the show and takes place probably farther info the future. Obviously far from canon compliant, given as the Wells/Eobard Thawne stuff and such.

I loved this prompt, it was super cute and a lot of fun, even if it's totally out of line with the show and this point. Plus I totally got to use a Percy Jackson reference as inspiration, which is a bonus.

Hope you guys enjoyed!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	39. love means having to say you're sorry

Tumblr Request: jocpedersonn asked: Heya! If you are not too swamped and are taking ideas / prompts, I might have a little one. I'm not sure if you've done it already, though. So my apologies if you have! But I was wondering if you could write something like, Barry gets hurt or will get hurt and Caitlin is telling him it's a bad idea to go alone (something like episode 3) so this causes her to blurt out her feelings, that she loves him, whatever you choose :-)

* * *

_**love means always having to say you're sorry**_

* * *

Barry Allen is being stupid again. He's being selfless and thoughtless and running into danger without a moment's consideration for himself, because he's so convinced he can't save everyone if he takes even a second to think about how he'll save his own life. Intent on stopping their latest bad guy, he'd run headlong into a skyscraper and now he's cut all over, littered with shards of glass and, frankly, he's lucky that it isn't worse then that (which is saying something because it's far from great).

Caitlin is not happy.

It's not the even, controlled anger she's used to, that minor tug of annoyance that these situations usually bring about: this is blind, raging, burning fury. She's livid, so mad she can't even speak: instead she begins removing glass, cleaning wounds and stitching up the worst of them with jerky, harsh movements, making no attempts at professionalism or gentleness. There's a hot streak of satisfaction that unfurls to her fingers and toes at the way it makes him wince.

Good, maybe the memory of the pain will make him stop and think for once in his life.

The only sounds that break the terse silence between them are the snip of scissors, the tap of metal as she exchanges tools and the ragged sound of breathing as both are still jumped up on adrenaline for very different reasons. He wants to say something, anything, but he's honestly a little afraid to try and bridge the gap given the way she's suturing him like he's some sort of practice dummy. Frankly he's afraid she'll stab him if he doesn't remain perfectly still (she's wielding an unusually large suture needle, he's not so stupid as to provoke her).

It's not until Caitlin removes the last shard of glass and knots the last set of sutures that she begins to speak, the silence ended with the heavy fall of her forceps and suture kit on the steel table. She watches him, her brown gaze unusually sharp as she opens her mouth and unleashes (prompting him to immediately think fondly of the silence and the sharp needle stabs of moments ago).

"You could have died, Barry." She's furious, angrier than she's ever been and he doesn't know what to make of it, because he's been hurt this badly before (yes, it sucks and no he's not particularly excited about it himself) but Caitlin's never yelled like this. Oh, sure she's yelled before, frustrated or annoyed by his general stupidity, but she's never simmered through the entire doctoring process only to release like a hurricane. Because he's not really sure what to do, he does precisely the wrong thing: he tries to make a joke about it.

"Trust me Caitlin, falling through a glass window four stories up was on the opposite end of my to-do list for the day."

He certainly doesn't need her to verbally confirm that it's the wrong move (the line of tension that runs up her neck and spills at the corners of her eyes is telling enough), but Caitlin gives an incredulous scoff nonetheless, her dark eyes blazing. "There's nothing funny about this Barry Allen," and then, since she's already gone through the (not nearly as gentle as usual) process of cleaning and bandaging his wounds, she stomps out of the lab and into the hallway, her heels clicking a huffy staccato in her wake.

For a long moment, he just watches her leave, wondering how on earth he's managed to make her this angry and what it will take to make it up to her. Eventually Barry sighs and, wincing only slightly since she's not here to see it, stands up to follow her out. He knows putting it off will only make it worse and he's not in the business of making things worse when it comes to his relationship with Caitlin. She's one of the few constants he's got these days, one of the only people who's always in his corner, who understands and who he can talk to about anything. He needs that, can't live with that, or her really (he's starting to feel the intensity of that fact more and more everyday).

Barry finds her in the lounge, standing over the stove with a kettle of water heating up. He waits in the doorway for her to turn around, a little afraid of what she might do if he accidentally startles her. He doesn't mind waiting, it gives him a moment to think, to let his eyes sweep over her tense form and prepare an appropriate apology for his carelessness. When she does turn around, more than a minute later, he smiles softly, tentatively and is already wearing an expression of utter remorse. The expression is completely sincere: knowing how much he worries her, how much he scares and upsets her, honestly hurts a lot more than the cuts.

"I'm sorry Cait," he starts, quiet and repentant, his tone a little pleading and a lot soft. "I really don't mean to be so reckless, I just get tunnel vision when it comes to helping people. I'm trying to get better at it."

Although his apologies usually calm her down, today they seem to have the opposite effect: Caitlin's jaw clenches, her breathing ticks up again and he can almost see her drawing energy from the air around them, fueling another wave of anger. Reactively, Barry tenses just as she spits out, "not hard enough!"

Her stubborn refusal to let it go is finally starting to catch Barry's usually dormant temper. He doesn't know what she wants from him: he can't change what's already happened. He knows she hates him putting other lives before his own, but that's just who he is. "I'm not going to change who I am Caitlin, not at the risk of people's lives." It's a little weary, but there's mounting heat behind the words—if she were thinking straight, she'd recognize the frustration that's seeping into his normally careful tone.

"And what about your life?"

"What about it? I always make it out and heal." The tension is building as they stand, half shouting at one another across the small room: Caitlin's voice sharp and heated, Barry's even and cool but cracking slowly.

"You get lucky! That's going to run out eventually Barry and I," she falters, eyes pulling from his to trace the floor before she breathes deeply, finds her resolve and plows on. "I can't keep stitching you back together again." If he were thinking clearly, the quieting of her voice, the way it weighs heavy in the air between them, would cause him to pause but his adrenaline is back and he's completely missing all the clues Caitlin's unconsciously sending him, all the little warning bells that should be telling him to back off, apologize again and let it go.

"So you're saying you're out? You don't want to help me anymore?" Somewhere in these last few sentences they've reversed roles: now Barry is the one half yelling and Caitlin's words are cold steel. He's a little frantic with the implication that she's running away from all this (from him—oh God, he's not sure he can live with that).

"I'm saying I'm can't stand by and watch the man I love throw himself away because he thinks he's only worth something when he's saving someone else!"

His heart stops, all the anger draining as her words sink in and he watches the realization of what she's just said fall across her face. The silence that envelops them in the ringing wake of her confession is interrupted by the whistle of the teakettle, startling them both. Caitlin turns around, grateful for any distraction, and begins to shakily prepare herself a mug of tea. Barry can see the way her fingers tremble against the ceramic, the way her knuckles whiten at her attempts to calm the tremors.

"You're wrong you know," he's much closer the next time he speaks, pressing a hand against her arm to turn her, leaving the mug behind. When they're facing each other, her eyes downcast and his burning in their attempts to meet hers, he continues. "It's not the fighting that makes me feel like I matter Caitlin, it's you." Surprised, she finally turns her gaze to his, stalling on the quiet upturn of his lips, which calms the rapid pace of her frantic heart to something more manageable, though it still beats a feverish pitch against her ribs. "You make me feel like I'm worth something Cait. Every time I talk to you, every time you smile or worry or tease me about something—those are the things that get me through."

"Barry I'm—"

"No, I'm sorry Caitlin." Still wearing that same soft expression (still dumbfounded that he's gone so long without noticing; he's the dumbest smart guy in the world), he leans forward to press a tentative kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry I worry you, I'm sorry I take stupid chances. I'm sorry that I've been so caught up in nearly killing myself that I didn't realize what it was doing to you, or that I could be doing this," and here he leans down to capture her lips in a soft, slow kiss that lingers only briefly before he pulls away. "I'm so sorry Caitlin."

They should talk about all of this, she knows. And she supposes they will because their ability to talk about the big things is why they're so close to begin with, but for the moment she allows herself to be content with the apology and the brief understanding (and inevitable stalemate) they've reached. She pulls herself closer, tugging him into a hug and nestling against his chest. "I'm sorry too."

* * *

Because every couple needs to have one of those mid-fight feeling admission fics :) I figure this takes place a year, maybe two into the future, obviously them not with anyone else so probably totally out of canon but ya know.

Hope you guys enjoyed. My internet was super wonky the last week but after 5 calls, 1 visit to the store and finally a service tech replacing all of our equipment with brand new stuff, I think I might have reliable, can update every few days, internet again!


	40. Crazy about You

_**Crazy about You**_

* * *

"That boy is crazy about you."

Startled, Caitlin whips around the find none other than Joe standing behind her, wearing a fond smile and his work suit, having had no chance to change between the altercation and the trip to the lab. The 'boy' in question is sprawled out, fast asleep, on the medical table, exhausted and healing from a rather mottled set of bruises and minor abrasions spread across his abdomen and upper torso. Their latest run in, meta-human in nature with powers that made him ridiculously strong, had made the mistake of trying to get between Barry and Caitlin during a mission. He had managed to land a few good hits before Joe had stepped in to help with a distraction, giving The Flash the opportunity to strike back and end it. Their meta human was now safely locked away but Barry had passed out on the way back to the lab, even as Caitlin had been cataloguing the damage done.

Upset over his injuries (a few cracked ribs and a bruised sternum to match his purple and raw flesh), Caitlin had wrapped his chest, covered him with healing gel and left him to sleep off the worst of it. All the while, she had been muttering anxiously, lip often tugged between her teeth, while scolding the sleeping hero for being so damn noble all the time (watching him get hurt was slowly driving her crazy herself).

The surprise must show in her eyes, dark and wide and flying up to meet Joe's, because the older man just shakes his head and nods toward the bed. "I've seen him go up against a lot of bullies in his day and plenty of meta-humans in the last few years Caitlin," he begins, letting his memory cast along those lines, thinking of every defense lesson he'd never actually listened to and every time he'd been the one to patch up his wounds. "I've never seen him lose his cool like that."

Caitlin just shrugs lightly, scarcely daring to get her hopes up, but appreciating Joe's attempts to soothe her frazzled nerves nonetheless. Usually Cisco and Dr. Wells are there to distract her from her eternal worries over Barry's safety, but both are at a conference this week and so unavailable for their usual duties. "We protect each other Joe; it's what we do." It's what he'd do for all of them really; nothing about Barry taking a beating is actually special (nor would she want it to be, she likes him whole and healthy, even if those are just the words of a worried friend talking), he would do that for anyone. He frequently does it for absolute strangers.

Joe supposes that her dismissive tone should be expected: Caitlin knows enough of Barry's history to be skeptical and Joe knows enough of hers to appreciate the reason for such skepticism. But he's been a detective longer than they've been alive; knowing these sorts of things is his job. Furthermore, knowing Barry is his job, and the boy isn't particularly skilled at hiding his feelings (not when they started to develop for Iris, not when they faded and especially not as he began to fall for Dr. Caitlin Snow). To him, it's painfully obvious that his foster son is completely in love with Caitlin, even if he's once again having a hard time finding the words.

He doesn't know Caitlin nearly as well, but he's pretty sure it doesn't take a genius to see she feels the same (and maybe that's the problem, because both of the geniuses currently in the room are utterly oblivious, even when they're both fully conscious). Still, for a long time Joe doesn't say much, just leans on the lab table next to Caitlin and watches the reassuring rise and fall of Barry's chest, a little more shallow than normal though it's to be expected. The gaze that had once been tracked on his own strays as well, Caitlin abandoning her search of his sincerity to likewise monitor Barry's steady breathing. Joe's never been one for letting things go unsaid though, so after a long spell of comfortable, comforting silence, he breaks it again. "It's not just about taking a few hits Caitlin." This time, it doesn't draw her attention away because Barry is moving slightly in his sleep, a sharp line of tension along his jaw that doesn't go unnoticed by the resident, unofficial doctor. Her gaze narrows as she judges his level of pain, relaxes when his face does, the moment seemingly past. "He never says your name without a smile on his face."

That catches her attention (which is, admittedly, easier now that Barry's adjusted his position and is sleeping soundly once more). He feels her sideways glance, curious and tentative and yet slowly burning with poorly concealed hope, her cover faltering under the gentle, paternal voice of reason that is Joe West.

"The day I told my dad I was going to propose to Iris's mom, he just laughed and told me good. Said the same thing about me: that I couldn't even mention her without grinning like the cat the caught the canary. He said that's how you know you're making the right choice." Caitlin reminds him of his late wife: warm hearted, thoughtful, patient but uncompromising—so many of the qualities he's glad his daughter had received from her mother, qualities he's proud to see that Barry values. She also reminds him of Nora Allen: brilliant, competitive, passionate, fascinated by details, unwilling to accept the general stupidity of a certain Mr. Allen without calling him out on it (brilliant as both men are, they're self sacrificing and so noble that they need someone in their lives to pull them back now and again, save them from their self imposed martyrdom). Caitlin is good for Barry in ways that, much though he loves his daughter, Iris isn't (it's why she and Eddie make such a good pair, hard as that once was to admit).

Caitlin still looks a little unconvinced, but he can see the way hope begins to warms her gaze and draws the hint of a smile to her lips. "He may not have come out and said it yet, but I think he's been trying to show it for months now. Honestly," and here Joe laughs, "that night of the charity auction, I think he just about had a heart attack when he saw you in that dress." The flush that steels across her cheeks at the memory is a surprise, but a welcome one. Joe laughs again and this time Caitlin joins. He suspects the particular shade of red she chose was not entirely a coincidence.

"It was nice to see him wear a suit that wasn't made of leather," and to dance and forget their real jobs for an evening, to just bask in the idea that their real lives were less crazy than they were, that nights like that (fun &amp; carefree) were the norm and not the insanely rare exception. "I just don't want to lose someone again," she finally admits, lulled into the confession by the ease with which she can talk with the older man, who has become so like a father figure to her over time. "And I don't want to ruin anyone's family," Caitlin adds, looking apologetic, as if he might still hold out some home for Iris and Barry. As if anyone needed another example of why they were so perfect for one another: both are clearly self-sacrificing to a fault. She'd rather leave their status quo on kilter than take a chance to knock it and disturb the balance they've all been building together these last years (made all the easier for everyone being in on the secret these days).

Her concern though, is completely ridiculous, so much so that Joe bursts into another long, hapless bought of chuckles and leans over to tug her into a one-armed hug. "Caitlin, in case you haven't noticed, you're already part of this crazy family we've got here." He squeezes a little tighter, filled with his fondness for the young woman who has become a friend to his daughter, a love to his son, and another child to him. "Besides, Barry's not the only one here who's pretty crazy about you."

Now if he can just manage to get his head together and stop scaring himself out of it, perhaps he could make that family thing official.

* * *

Kind of an intense story, which is not what I envisioned when I started it, but I do like the idea of a serious heart to heart between Joe and Caitlin while they watch over an injured Barry. Joe and Caitlin fics are something I need more of in my life, so I'll definitely do some more in the future, especially some fluffier ones.

Hope you liked it! Thanks for any &amp; all feedback!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	41. Blow Out All the Candles

_**Blow Out All the Candles**_

* * *

Caitlin shows up at the precinct at 11:30 wearing her favorite summer dress and barely containing a mischievous grin. Climbing the front stairs, she steadily ignores the flutter of her nerves and she goes over their carefully crafted plan for the day. With a deep breath, Caitlin steels herself one last time and then steps inside, smiling her way past Officer Adam Nills at the front desk without delay. She's fairly certain that the gray haired, genial desk sergeant has a soft spot for her, because he always waves her past with wink and a nod when she stops by, ignoring the usual check-in procedure entirely. It's kind of nice, really, to have built those connections over the last year and a half of working with Barry: they make the police station feel a bit like another home, another place where she feels safe and cared for and a part of something, in some way.

Striding in with an air of carefully contained confidence and her usual smile, Caitlin makes her way straight to Joe's and Eddie's desks, where both men are sitting shuffling through what seems to be a minor mountain of paperwork. Both look up at the click of her heels against the linoleum, each wearing a fond, welcoming grin (and neither looking very put out for the interruption). Caitlin's dark eyes cast around immediately; forgoing a greeting when she notices that Barry is nowhere to be seen.

"He's up in the lab," Eddie says the second he sees her looking, that same teasing tone in his voice that has become increasingly present the last few months, whenever she drops by for a visit, for lunch or to help Barry out with a case. Like it almost always does, the implication he doesn't bother to hide causes Caitlin to roll her eyes. Usually it's just fond annoyance that incites her reaction, today it's because Eddie knows exactly why she's here and looking for him, given he's been helping her plan for weeks.

Of course, if Barry's up in the lab, that does have the potential to throw a wrench in their plans—her brows gather in an unasked question that Joe readily answers nonetheless. "He's in the middle of some testing for Muckleroy; he'll have time for lunch though. Captain Singh already knows we're taking our break at the same time."

"Perfect, thanks for taking care of that." It's the last piece she was truly worried about; everything else has been arranged for more than a week.

"Hey, you planned everything else. Least we could do." Eddie stands, knocking his shoulder against hers to punctuate his statement, causing Caitlin to laugh. She genuinely likes Eddie: the man is so easy going and good-natured, it's hard not to, especially now that he and Iris are both in the Flash loop and Barry's unrequited love has faded. In the past half a year, they've actually all managed to become a pretty close group of friends, something she's grateful for. "Go grab lover boy and we'll make sure everyone's ready for the big surprise." (A bit less grateful when Eddie makes those kinds of comments).

Joe laughs, watching their antics as Caitlin gives the detective another heavy eye roll, ignoring his comment the same way she's been doing for months (it's even funnier when it's Barry that Eddie's giving a hard time—because Barry is not nearly as good at hiding his tells). "Let's get going, or they'll beat us there."

The two men grab their things and head for the parking lot—the restaurant's not far but they're still on duty so they'll take the patrol car rather than walk. Caitlin just shakes her head, bids them a momentary farewell and weaves her way toward the stairs that lead to the second floor lab. Hand on the railing, grinning at the quiet hum of whatever music Barry is listening to while he works, she makes her way upstairs. Sure enough, he's leaned over a lab table, measuring something out and singing along to Les Mis when she turns the bend of the stairs. Caitlin watches him for a moment as she ascends the final few stairs, warring with the desire to burst into laughter and half wishing Cisco had decided to drag him to lunch with her, rather than meet there with the others, so he could share in her amusement.

"Not a very optimistic birthday song selection," she calls when the music reaches a dip, unable to contain her grin when Barry's eyes jump up to meet hers, his sheepish smile stretching into a matching grin in the space of just a few seconds.

"Hey," Barry calls out, speeding over to pause the music all while waving her closer (not that she really needs his formal invitation: invading one another's work spaces is something they do often enough). "Yeah, not that positive, but the melodies are fantastic. Did we have lunch plans?" He asks, puzzled, a few seconds later when it occurs to him that he didn't know Caitlin was coming by. All the same, Barry doesn't wait for confirmation before starting to go through the necessary protocols for leaving the lab for a lunch break.

Still smiling, she shakes a few curls over her shoulder as she confirms that no; they hadn't made any plans (at least none he knew about). "Thought I'd surprise you and drag you out for a birthday lunch. Happy birthday by the way." Barry tugs her into a grateful hug as he approaches, moving a few papers to a stack at his desk on the way.

"Thanks, Cait," he tells her, releasing her from his grasp after another quick squeeze. He's not the type to need a big fuss for his birthday, but it has been unusually lacking in well wishes, so her thoughtfulness is appreciated. And lunch itself never goes amiss with Barry Allen, especially lunch with one of his best friends. "Where'd you have in mind?" He asks, already leading the way toward the stairs (he leads with his stomach as much as his heart, so it was never a dangerous gamble that her plan would be rebuffed).

"Well, I wasn't sure how much time you'd have, so I thought we'd just walk down to that pizza place down the block—if that's okay?" Pizza is thankfully a fairly safe bet she's pretty sure Barry won't deviate from. She's not quite sure what she'll do if he does, but Barry's beaming nod means she doesn't need to find out. He misses her sigh of relief as they hit the bottom of the stairs and head for the front entrance, waving goodbye to a grinning Officer Nills and promising to bring him back a slice or two (that Caitlin brings him food at least once a week when she visits probably has something to do with how fondly he greets her).

It's a gorgeous summer day outside, if a bit breezy, so even Barry has no problem with a leisurely pace down the two longer city blocks between the police station and the pizza place. He listens smilingly as Caitlin describes the morning over at Star Labs and then tells her about the case he's working, all the while watching with a poorly contained laugh as Caitlin continually tucks curling strands of hair behind her ears, only for the wind to knock them loose a few seconds later. "Urg," she exclaims after the sixth or seventh fix. "Maybe I should just cut it or straighten it permanently." She knows she wouldn't really, but it would make a lot of things a little easier—especially with Barry flashing all over the place, constantly displacing the almost too long curls.

His laughter is endearing and frustrating as he pauses to turn and carefully wind the most recently errant strand behind her ear, his fingers skimming along her jawbone on their final descent. "I like the curls," he says with a wink before turning forward again and moving toward the restaurant.

Caitlin feigns exasperation and just follows along, growing a little visually nervous as they approach the restaurant. Barry notices but chalks it up to his own actions and mentally reminds himself to step back a little and not crowd her (something he finds himself needing to do more and more lately as he finds himself constantly drawn into her gravity by some invisible force). He tries to open the heavy wooden door of the restaurant and usher her inside, but Caitlin shakes her head and nestles into the space between him and the door, grinning and sweeping her hand forward. "Birthday boys first today," she teases, wedged beneath his arm, eyes locked on his.

This time it's Barry who shakes his head affectionately, knowing there's no use arguing with her. He steps inside, closely followed by Caitlin and is suddenly greeted by a hearty "surprise!" which seems a completely accurate description for the look he wears as he notices the small group clustered around the large front table, all smiling in his direction. Joe, Iris, Eddie, Cisco, Dr. Wells, even Felicity, Oliver, Roy, Thea and Diggle, are all sitting at a table, surrounded by cups and breadsticks and wearing beaming smiles.

"Oh wow! Thanks everyone," Barry grins, approaching the group and beginning to give hand shakes and hugs where appropriate, overwhelmed by the surprise.

"All Caitlin's idea," Iris tells him, moving forward to give the first hug, pulling her best friend close and leaving a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Golden Birthday Bar," she adds, handing him off to Joe. Once all the greetings have been exchanged, he finds himself back at the head of the table, locking eyes with a slightly anxious looking Caitlin (an unusual expression on her but then again, she's not usually the type to organize a two city surprise party).

Eager to ease her nerves, Barry pulls her into the tightest hug of all, dropping a kiss atop her head when he feels relatively sure that most of the others are distracted by their menus. He beams down at her, feeling almost as high on excitement as he does when he's running. "You coordinated all this?"

She shrugs a little under the scrutiny, nodding to the distracted Joe and Eddie and Iris, "I had plenty of help. A surprise lunch was okay? We thought we'd do something tonight too, but I didn't want you to spend the whole day thinking we'd ignored your birthday." Her voice drops a little and they both lean in the way they usually do when one's about to reference their second jobs. "And I was worried something would come up and get in the way and we wouldn't be able to celebrate at all."

"It's perfect Caitlin," and he means it: there's no better way to spend his birthday (or any day really) than surrounded by all the people he loves the best in life. Eager to catch up with everyone, especially the Starling City crew (because Oliver hates when he calls them Team Arrow), Barry tugs out Caitlin's chair for her before taking his own seat.

Fourteen hours later, walking home from a peaceful day of work (completely devoid of any meta-human menaces) and a fun night out with friends, Barry sees fit to amend his earlier thought. There is definitely one better way to spend his birthday: buzzed on happiness and Caitlin's smile, her arms wrapped around his neck, his fingers gently spanning her hips, their mouths pressed together in what is certainly the first of many long, slow kisses.

* * *

So I envision this takes places about 1.5 years into Barry being the Flash. This was written at the end of February and is totally out of most of what's now canon in the show but hopefully was enjoyable nonetheless. Most of it's friendshippy with some Eddie/Caitlin teasing friendship (because I love that and it's a firm part of my headcanon) and also contains reference to what I like to call the 'Friendly Five' aka, Barry/Caitlin/Cisco/Iris/Eddie as buddies in a world where they're all in on the secrets.

Thoughts always appreciated and welcome!

Best Wishes,

AOR


	42. Lunch with Daddy

**Lunch with Daddy**

* * *

It's been years since anyone has made her check in upon entering the police station, but these days her entrance is delayed nonetheless, though now it's for entirely different reasons. The second Caitlin walks into the precinct with little Kella tucked in her carrier she knows there will be a few inevitable stops before she makes it to her destination.

Adam Nills doesn't disappoint, beaming around a cup of coffee and his scruffy beard as he steps out from behind his post at the front desk. "Well look who's come down to the station," he coos, completely ignoring Caitlin in favor of the ten month old she's carrying. "Here to see your daddy sweetheart?"

Caitlin can only smile at the way the old officer turns into a puddle of goo around her daughter. "Here to drag him away for some lunch Adam," she explains, still smiling, watching as he brings a finger up and Kella grasps at it eagerly. The look on his face is terribly sweet, no doubt thinking about his own grandchildren growing up a few hours away. He loves to show off his latest pictures whenever his daughter sends them, bragging about little Sally and James. Caitlin knows he does the same with Kella when he goes home at night—his wife had told her as much at the family picnic two months ago.

After a final few coos and a quick picture, Adam nods towards the interior of the station. "You go on in Caitlin, last I heard Barry was up in the lab working on something or other."

Shifting Kella to her other hand, she thanks the desk sergeant and makes her way past the wooden double doors, entering the sea of desks that form the center of the heart of the precinct. The stairs that lead to Barry's lab are located along the right wall but a cursory glance of the open room shows her that Joe and Eddie are both at their desks, so Caitlin takes a detour in that direction. Both men are hard at work, leaned over and rifling through files and so they don't notice she's approaching until she calls out: "Looks like Grandpa Joe and Uncle Eddie might be too busy for a visit."

The words claim both their immediate attention: Joe springs out of his chair quick as the Flash himself, striding over to take the carrier from Caitlin and set it atop the files littering his desk. He takes one quick second to smile at his granddaughter before pulling Caitlin into a hug. "Good to see you," he greets, giving her a second squeeze as if they hadn't all had their usual Sunday lunch three days ago. In the span of time those actions take, Eddie has moved into the aisle as well, filling the space Joe vacates for a tight bear hug of his own.

"Hey Cait."

"Things were slow at the lab today," she says by way of greeting, voice dropping slightly with the inference that those words carry. "So we figured we'd stop by and see if daddy was free to go to lunch."

Sometimes it amazes her, the way that becoming a mother has changed her. She'd never pictured herself as someone who would use the term daddy, or pull herself away from work to stop by to see her husband in the middle of the day just because she wants to and yet Barry, and now Kella, have changed so much about who she knew herself to be. It's startling, when she looks back at it, but honestly, she can't bring herself to mind these surprises. (She should have known from the first time he sped across that practice lot that Barry Allen would turn her whole world around).

"If you want to go check in with him and see where he's at, Eddie and I can keep an eye on this one," Joe says fondly, already unfastening Kella so that he can pick her up and cuddle her against his chest. He doesn't even bother waiting for her to reply, his attention zeroing completely in on the baby. Eddie's likewise distracted, peering over his father-in-law's shoulder to make faces. Clearly Caitlin isn't the only one who's changed a little.

Laughing, she leaves her daughter in Joe and Eddie's capable hands and makes her way toward and up the stairs of the crime lab. Reaching the top, she finds her husband's back to her, scribbling away on some report, nodding along to the radio. She takes a long moment to appreciate the view, something they get precious little time to do these days, busy as they are with their jobs, their daughter and keeping Central City safe.

In the midst of her appreciative glance, Barry senses the weight of her gaze and turns around, beaming when he notices who exactly has been eyeing him up from across the room. Striding over just a little faster than he should, Barry pulls her in for a kiss. "Hey Cait, what's up? Where's Kella?"

Rather than immediately answer his question, she pulls him back in for another quick kiss and a hug. "Kella's downstairs with Joe. Things were pretty slow today, so we thought we'd come see if you wanted to get some lunch."

It's an offer that nothing could make him refuse—there's nothing that beats spending a little extra time with his two favorite girls. "My beautiful wife, my beautiful daughter and food? I'm not sure where the question is in there Caitlin," he teases, moving a few papers and pressing a few buttons on the various machinery sprawled throughout the workspace. Once everything is where it needs to be, he turns back to Caitlin and catches up her hand.

They make it to the first floor landing to see Joe and Eddie showing Kella off to a surprisingly smiling Captain Singh. The usually clipped, stern man bends over to tickle at her socked feet, laughing in time with the giggling little girl. The sight causes both of them to pause and share a grin before heading over to join the little group.

It's amazing, Barry thinks, as Captain Singh makes a lighthearted comment, how much life can change around you, how happy you can be. The life he has now is nothing like he would have once imagined, but he wouldn't trade it for anything. Sure, it can be a little hectic, but moments like these are a sharp reminder of what they work so hard for, why they put so much effort into saving the world.

And his world is looking pretty darn good.

* * *

Just some fun, pointless family fluff. Which you're getting a lot of right now, since I just posted my belated Memorial Day fic on Holidays with the Allens and will be posting a father's day fic in the next few days. My next couple of updates here, as I look through them, seem to be family centered. If you'd like something else, let me know and I can pull a few others in to space them out.


	43. Redefining Love

_**Redefining Love**_

* * *

Barry Allen has never been one for hyperbole, but he's fairly certain he has never been quite this tired in his entire life. Definitely not the week of AP tests in high school or during finals week in college, not even after running so fast he'd traveled back through time. Every part of his body feels weighted down, heavy and sluggish, his movements perpetually stalled. His eyes ache with their desire for rest, closing with ease but protesting every upward lift of his lids. In the last few days, he's caught himself nodding off every time he stands still for more than half a minute—he'd nearly started himself on fire leaning over the stove, heading up some water on Thursday.

The situation is becoming nearly unbearable.

It would be completely unbearable, really, if not for the reason he is so thoroughly exhausted: his daughter, eight days old and perfect in every way (even if his newly expanded definition of perfect has had to take on the mind-boggling connotation of being seemingly adverse to sleep). Little Kella has not slept more than two or three hours at a time since he and Caitlin brought her home from the hospital a week ago. Subsequently, neither have they and no one involved is faring very well at this point (well Kella is seemingly alright, but he's not sure how).

To be fair, he could probably sleep through her cries by now, if he wanted to (and quite possible an atomic bomb or a world war). So could Caitlin and the books say that they can (and should) and that Kella will be perfectly fine, at least at night. Except they're both on razor's edge, afraid to miss anything or do anything to neglect their little girl and they're both equally unwilling to abandon one another (Joe had laughed at them outright yesterday, when they'd explained what was going on, both half asleep at Sunday lunch) to let them go it alone by taking turns. So they continue walking through their little two story house with the backyard and the front garden like zombies, ignoring Cisco every time he makes fun of them when he stops to check in and catching miniscule naps every time Kella tuckers herself out.

In all actuality, it's a little impressive how good they're getting at falling asleep at a moment's notice, just about anywhere in the house—minus those times when it's near open flames. In the last few days, he's entered rooms to find Caitlin snoring away (something she'll fiercely deny) amongst a pile of neatly folded laundry, leaned against the refrigerator and propped up on the bathroom counter, midway through flossing her teeth. Each time, he's gently eased her from her position to carry her to the nearest soft surface, (though not before capturing a quick picture on his phone, determined to remember every perfect, loving, sleep deprived line on her face in the years to come) only for her to wake up the next time a baby monitor crackles.

Today is certainly no exception to the rule, which is why he's standing (swaying, leaning, bouncing: whatever he needs to do to remain upright) next to the stove once more, a little more vigilant about the burner flames as he waits for the water to boil so he can finish making two cups of tea. Honestly, what he really needs right now is a Venti coffee from Jitters, but Caitlin had sworn off caffeine when they'd learned she was pregnant (which had been an awful two week transition period) and he'd joined in solidarity (he's rather impressed even their marriage made it through). So as long as she's still breast-feeding, de-caf tea is their best crutch.

The whistle of the kettle startles him back to grateful attention and he quickly pours two cups, adding a spoon of honey to Caitlin's Star Labs mug and an extra drop of mint extract to his own. Another shake to clear the cobwebs from his head and he plucks up the two steaming mugs, making his way to the living room where Caitlin is folding laundry while Kella naps nearby.

Pausing in the doorway, Barry takes in the scene, warmth filling his chest and waking him up a little at the sight. Their living room is absolute chaos: laundry is spread throughout the room (most of it clean, some of it sorted into little heaps, ready to get carted downstairs and washed), there's a scattered pile of toys and books along the coffee table, and various other odds and ends that, on a normal day, would be driving his wife absolutely crazy. Instead, she's firmly entrenched in the middle of it all, settled comfortably on the plush carpet, wearing his Star Labs sweatshirt and a pair of pajama pants, folding up towels and humming a lullaby to their slumbering daughter just a few feet to her right. Life, he decides in that moment, barely awake and his heart nearly bursting in his chest, cannot possibly get any better than this.

Until it does, anyway.

Caitlin notices him from the corner of her eye and gives him that soft, wide smile that makes him feel like a teenager all over again. She begins to fold up her legs; clearly intending to stand up, when he shakes his head and moves to her instead. He hands off her mug of tea before sliding down the front of their couch and taking up the open space beside her, his free arm automatically snaking around her waist as she leans into his embrace.

"Thank you," Caitlin breathes, clutching the mug in both hands like it's a lifeline rather than just a hot beverage.

"Well, I can't exactly help feed her," he jokes quietly, eyes darting toward their slumbering daughter, stretched out on her little floor mattress, fast asleep. She looks so peaceful that it's strange to think how fragile that peace is, how easily she can and will eventually wake.

"I still appreciate it," Caitlin tells him, tearing her gaze away from Kella and back to Barry—eyes warm when they meet his, both tipping forward automatically for a quick kiss. Barry lingers when they break away, eyes closed and leaning his forehead against hers. Laughing lightly, she leaves her tea on the coffee table and brings a hand to brush up against the stubble that's begun collecting along his jaw, too caught up with Kella to bother keeping up with shaving. "Barry Allen, did you just fall asleep kissing me?"

Her laugh only redoubles as his eyes snap back open, a playfully guilty expression chasing the exhaustion she's getting so used to seeing against the emerald. "Never Cait," he jokes before surging forward to catch her in a longer kiss that spikes his blood and does far more for his level of alertness than any mug of tea could. With the familiarity of practice, Caitlin's hand grabs for the mug he's still clutching, pulling it away to stow safely next to hers before it joins the other at the collar of his shirt. Still mid-kiss, Barry shifts them so that Caitlin's pressed against the carpet, arms wound around his neck, fingers edging along his nape while he's propped on his elbows above her, smiling down at the look on her face, dazed for an entirely new reason. "I love you."

"I love you too." Sometimes, when she looks at her life, it amazes her to think how improbable this all once seemed, yet how perfectly it has all turned out so far. She's halfway back to his mouth when hers splits open in an uncontainable yawn, which Barry joins a few heartbeats later. When she manages to regain control, a guilty grin steals across her lips, eyes dancing with sleepy mirth. "I'm so tired."

The expression on Barry's face is an easy match for hers. With a few quick movements, he rearranges their position so that they're both sprawled on the floor, tugging various piles of neatly folded laundry over to serve as pillows. "Nap time." Caitlin curls up against his side, ear resting against his heartbeat and within minutes they're both fast asleep.

Naptime doesn't last long but it is still so sweet.

Kella starts fussing scarcely an hour later, wet and in need of a new diaper. Quiet as he can, Barry scoops her up and brings her to her changing table. It doesn't take long to fix the problem and she's already nodding off by the time she has a fresh diaper, so he returns her to her previous spot, laying on her little mattress a few feet from Caitlin. Moving carefully, he settles into a sitting position next to his wife and watches their daughter slowly drift back to sleep.

Exhausting as it all is, he still can't help but wonder at his luck, struck dumb each time he picks Kella up and cradles her in his arms. She really is perfect, their little Mikeala Grace: all six pounds, twelve ounces of her, fussing and crying, covered in a mop of fine, soft, dark curls and blue eyes that already seem just a hint darker than the day she was born.

It's more than just the word perfect that she's begun to redefine for him.

Barry thought he'd known what love meant, but now he realizes he was only scratching the surface before, filled with the passion and the comfort and the strength of love in his relationship with his wonderful wife. Now he knows the tenacity, the awe, the soul deep conviction of love. What he feels for his two girls, both snoring quietly within arm's reach, is beyond anything he's ever felt before—they truly are his whole world. He knows, without a doubt, that he will do anything and everything in his power to keep them as safe and happy as they are in this moment, tucked away from the world together.

* * *

This was 100% inspired by an episode of Chicago Fire, where someone left a baby at the station and the picture of Barry watching Caitlin rocking Kella came to mind. Thus, we got this little fic. Hopefully you enjoyed the cuteness :) Feedback always appreciated!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AkaOkamiRyu


	44. Told You So

**Told You So**

* * *

Carefully juggling a bag of groceries, her purse and her keys, Caitlin Allen makes a blind grab for the doorknob that leads from the driveway in to the kitchen. Catching it on the first try, she gives an easy twist and enters her disarmingly quiet house—eyes narrowing with suspicion. With three kids and a superhero husband, silence is typically more of an anomaly than a blessing and it immediately sends an uneasy prickle down her spine. They should be getting ready for Cara's first soccer game, which means the house should be filled with the chaotic sounds of three kids and one adult (relatively speaking) running around looking for lost jackets and misplaced cleats. Instead she hears nothing but the distant sound of music and an occasional footfall. Biting at her lower lip, Caitlin leaves the groceries, her purse and her keys on the counter and weaves her way through the empty kitchen, immediately finding half of her family sitting at the table in their attached dining room.

The mood at the table is decidedly tense, Caitlin observes as she stands in the doorway and glances between her husband and her middle child. Barry's brow is knit into a tangle, his slightly shaggy hair is askew (no doubt from running his fingers through it all morning), and he is ridiculously still for a man who almost never steps moving. There's a half-eaten sandwich on his plate, totally forgotten as he stares at and occasionally flips through a binder of colorfully highlighted papers. Every now and then he mutters something, flips another page and scribbles a note into the margin. Occasionally he finds something to frown over before flipping through another few pages and then turning back to erase something he's just scrawled out.

On the opposite side of the table, Cara doesn't seem to be doing much better, although she does look a lot less frantic than her father (listless really, which is an adjective that normally doesn't fit her unusually gregarious middle child). Truth be told, she almost looks like she's going to be sick. The ten year old is decidedly off color, her expression is pinched and somber and she's picked even less at the meal before her than her father has (which says something, considering she's inherited Barry's appetite, even if she doesn't have his super speed).

The situation is concerning, to say the least.

"How long have you two been like this?" Caitlin finally asks when they continue to not notice her staring from the doorway. She watches as they both startle, breaking momentarily from the trances they seem to have fallen into as their gazes turn toward her. Neither seems to have an answer, but they both have the decency to look a bit sheepish at the question—twin half smiles and bewildered green eyes, their shoulders just barely lifting to a shrug.

Thankfully, a dark head peeks around the corner before either can make a halfhearted, stammering reply. "Since just after you left mom. I made lunch thinking food would snap them out of it but obviously it didn't help." Her oldest nods at the half finished plates sitting abandoned on the table, shaking her head and rolling her eyes a little dramatically—as only newly turned teenagers can do (and isn't that a frightening thought in and of itself?). As well as the sisters get along, there are a few areas in their lives that the other just cannot manage to understand. For Kella, this is one of them.

Caitlin breathes a sigh of relief; glad at least someone in the house still has their head on straight—and a little proud of her sensible oldest child, who takes her big sister duties seriously, even if she cannot fathom why Cara would be so worried over something she finds so trivial. "Thanks for trying Kella. Where's your brother?"

"Still napping, I can wake him up and make sure he's ready to go," she answers before disappearing as quickly as she came, off to rouse Ben and then decide what book to take along for the afternoon.

Smiling, Caitlin squares her hands against her hips and diverts her attention back where it had been a moment ago. She means to wear a stern expression, ready to play the tough parent but they both look so miserable—the worry reflected in their already matching green eyes—that she immediately crumbles and can't manage anything sharper than gentle understanding and encouragement. "Today is going to be great," she tells them both, sinking into the empty chair at the head of the table and leveling them with her best 'mom look' when her first comment fails to spark anything. "Alright, enough moping! Take your sandwich to your room Cara and go get changed or we'll be late. Snacks are already packed, I made your favorite." That earns her at least a little smile as Cara hops off her chair, takes the remainder of her lunch and begins to shuffle toward the stairs.

Barry watches her go before turning back to his wife. "Sorry for zoning out Cait," he sighs, the tone so unusually downcast (especially unnerving when combined with his relative silence the last few minutes; usually getting Barry to stop chattering is the problem, albeit one she loves). "I was trying to give her a pep talk, but then she started talking about the plays and I started to get nervous." He motions to the binder in front of him with the highlighter still clutched between his fingers.

Caitlin can't help it: she bursts out laughing. Surprised, Barry watches her in confusion, though the familiar sound does wash some of the tension away from his face. "Sorry Barry," she manages between chuckles, "it's just a little surreal to see you, the Flash, the man that's gone up against meta-human criminals, getting nervous to coach a fourth grade soccer game."

He tries to adopt an indignant look, but the sparkle is already returning to his eyes and Caitlin's not easy to fool (never has been and motherhood has only sharpened those senses over the years). "I know, I just don't want to let the girls down." Momentarily failing to save the city, even actually failing to save the city, is not nearly as intimidating as the idea of letting his team down, letting his little girl down—he'd rather face an army of cold gun wielding bad guys then run the risk of disappointing Caralyn.

Still laughing a little, but wearing a soft smile, Caitlin stands up and crosses over to the other side of the table to run a hand soothingly through his hair and down his neck, angling his face upwards as she leans down for a lingering kiss. "Sweetheart, you jumped in to coach when no one else would, you run around as much as they do during practice, you play games to help them with their exercises and you instituted a weekly water balloon fight to practice their agility—those girls adore you. Cara adores you. That's not going to change whether you win or lose a game, even your first one." Her expression tender, Caitlin presses a second kiss against his forehead rather than his lips, the same way that Barry always does when he's trying to reassure her of something. When she pulls away, eyes still gentle, she's relieved to see that he's grinning in the wonderfully love struck, silly way that still makes her heart stutter, clearly feeling much better.

"You're right Cait."

"I usually am," she teases, straightening to head back into the kitchen—the groceries still need to be put away and she needs to make sure she has all their water bottles and other essentials ready for the big game. She gets about two feet before she feels an arm wrap around her middle and pull her back flush against Barry's chest. Grinning, Caitlin tilts her head and one eyebrow. "Yes?"

He presses a grateful kiss to her lips before he says anything, "thanks Cait."

"You're welcome Barry," angling up on her tiptoes, she steals one more kiss, wiping away both their wide grins. "Now go get changed coach."

When, a few hours later, the girls win their game 3-0, Caitlin helps orchestrate the entire team dumping their water bottles on Barry's head. Kella snaps pictures while Ben collapses into a fit of giggles at the sight of his daddy covered in water (and mud) and Cara tackles him in a bear hug that leaves her uniform covered in mud as well. Shortly thereafter, the team is distracted with post-game granola cookies and apple juice popsicles, so Caitlin helps her husband off the ground, laughing and trying to get away as he pulls her in for a wet, muddy hug.

"Told you so."

He tries to kiss the smug expression from her face but they're both laughing too hard.

* * *

Last family fic for a little while, so hope you guys enjoyed them!

Among my many head cannons is the idea that Barry would be a total soccer dad and coach Cara's team (because I feel like one of the Allen children needs to be strangely athletic, where their parents weren't naturally) and that Caitlin would dominant the PTA, excellent planner that she is. They both really value family, so they put a lot of effort into supporting their kids.

Anyhow, hope you liked it!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	45. Friendly Advice

**Friendly Advice**

* * *

"Hey Bar."

He turns abruptly, his attention torn away to find Eddie standing next to him with two beer bottles in his grasp, arm extended to offer one—apparently he and Iris have finally arrived for the cookout. Barry nods agreeably and echoes the greeting before he takes the offered bottle. He twists the top off with a grateful smile and downs a large, refreshing a gulp of the cold beverage—the perfect companion for this Saturday afternoon barbecue that Iris and Joe have orchestrated for their little group. Clearly not done with him, Eddie closes the small gap and settles against the rail of the deck, tracking the focus of the attention he'd just diverted with his greeting.

He's not the least surprised by what he finds at the end of Barry's former line of sight—Caitlin. "So, are you ever going to tell her?"

Barry chokes on his beer, nearly shatters the dark bottle in his unexpectedly clutching grip as he startles and stares wide eyed at the detective. For one wild second, he wonders if he's traveled back in time without meaning to—but no, this conversation had not started quite so amiably in the past (though, to be fair, Eddie had been remarkably understandable about his then-lingering feelings for Iris, after some initial shock at least). When he manages to dismiss that notion, he realizes that there's only one other her that Eddie could be referring to (which is the right one) and that knowledge draws a heavy breath from his lungs. He doesn't know how to respond—thankfully Eddie rarely needs him to, he can supply the conversation easily enough without help.

"You really should Barry," he nods to where she's talking with Joe, beaming widely at some story he's telling, tucking a long strand of dark hair behind her ear when the breeze shifts and knocks it loose of the tie she's got it in. "Not to poke at the subject but," he seems genuinely distressed over what he's about to say, clearly worried Barry will take it poorly. It's those overarching good intentions that make it so easy to like Eddie, so difficult to ever begrudge him his happiness with Iris (not that he would now anyway). "You don't want to lose your chance this time." The 'like you did with Iris' is implied but again, Eddie's too good hearted to come right out with it, he even half winces at the allegation twisted into his words.

For his part, Barry just shakes his head and resists the urge to roll his eyes too (honestly, he's not made of glass; it didn't happen, didn't work out; he's over it and he's beginning to realize that they weren't ever really meant for each other anyway). "It's complicated Eddie," because for all Eddie knows their stories (it had eventually become impossible to hide the true goings-on of Star Labs from Eddie and, by extension, Iris, thanks to the betrayal of Dr. Wells), he hasn't been there to watch them play out, can't understand them quite the same.

The proof is in his reaction, the way he just grins widely and shakes his head, as if Barry is just being too stubborn or too stupid. "It's really not Bar. You like her, she's good for you and you're good for her too—so do something about it, tell her how you feel."

It's not that easy, it can't be. Nothing about who and what they are is easy. He'd think that Eddie, as a cop, would understand that but then, Eddie has the girl, so clearly he can't understand it. Barry tries to figure out a way to explain this, taking a long swallow to sort his thoughts. "There's more to it then that Eddie—my past, her past, the Flash, it's just not as simple as you make it sound."

"Except it is," he interrupts, before Barry can continue to try and talk him around. "Because there's more to you two than that—then your pasts or your issues or even the Flash. You're real people, with real lives and real futures. That means your lives deserve to include more happiness." He uses his own beer to motion toward where Caitlin and Joe, now joined by Iris (Cisco is on the far side of the yard, tinkering with the grill) are talking. "And she makes you happy. So do something about it." Sensing the stalemate protests already building on Barry's lips, the way they have so often of late, even if they're only ever used against himself, Eddie claps him on the shoulder and walks away, head shaking a little as if miffed by how the smartest people he knows can be so clueless on what he believes to be such a simple issue.

Since he knows that sometimes calling a draw is easier then winning a victory, Barry just ignores him and lets his gaze wander back over, taking in the way the parts of his life have come to coincide. He's about to abandon his position to go help Cisco double check the gas lines when he sees movement in the distance. It's Caitlin, looking his way with that quiet, soft smile curling along the edge of her lips. His eyes catch on hers and for a long, lingering moment, he shares in her smile, returning it with equal sincerity.

Caught up in the soft brown, Barry can't help the little burst of optimism that warms his thoughts—maybe Eddie's right. Maybe it is that easy.

* * *

Just a little piece with some Barry/Eddie time because I think that (if it weren't for all the Flash stuff) they could get along pretty well. Really I just love the idea of that whole group being great friends and Eddie (and often Cisco) pushing Barry to do something about his growing feelings, because he'd be that guy :)

Also, as a note, this was written ages ago, long before the last few episodes, so not in line with canon at all.

As always, feedback appreciated.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	46. Seventh Inning Stretch

_Anonymous asked: Can you write a fic about Barry, Cisco and Caitlin taking a day off and going to a baseball game where Barry and Caitlin get caught on the kisscam?_

* * *

_**Seventh Inning Stretch**_

* * *

Barry thinks it's an impressive testament to their friendship that they all let Eddie drag them to a baseball game, despite the fact that none of them are particularly big sports fans. But he'd come striding into the precinct on Tuesday morning, grinning in that earnest way that he knows (too well) Iris loves and makes it hard for anyone else to refuse him either. He hadn't even given Barry a chance to ask what was up before launching into an explanation: an old police academy buddy had a wedding out of town and didn't want his Central City Diamonds tickets to go to waste, so he had five of them for that Saturday's game. Iris had already been lured by the promise of hot dogs and beer and Eddie was hoping that Barry, Caitlin and Cisco would want to go as well.

Barry had promised to ask that afternoon, certain that his Star Labs friends would refuse and save them all a few long hours in the hot sun, watching people run in circles (painfully slowly, by his standards), hitting and chasing balls.

He hadn't expected Cisco to be immediately on board or for Caitlin, after deliberating for a long minute with her lower lip caught between her teeth, to tentatively shrug her acquiescence. "I'm not really big on baseball," she'd started, half a smile accompanying the rise and fall of her shoulder, "But it might be nice to take an afternoon off and do something normal for a change."

Baseball games probably did count as part of having a life, after all. As would hanging with friends. He hadn't been able to deny that she had a point.

And so, they find themselves settled on benches, at the top of the fourth, watching the Diamonds play some team in grey and orange that Barry's never actually heard of.

It hasn't been too bad an afternoon, really. It's a gorgeous sort of day, warm and sunny but with a hint of breeze, which is perfect for keeping it from getting too hot on the metal benches of the stadium. It's dollar beer day, so they've been munching on junk food and washing it down with Bud Light, spending more time talking then actually watching the game, though every now and then something happens to pull their attention to the field. (It's actually kind of funny, because Iris has learned a lot about baseball from Joe and she's clearly enjoying explaining calls to her boyfriend, who is obviously more of a fair weather fan than anything. Add to that mix Cisco, who likes predicting hits based on physics and ruining the outcome of plays, and Barry and Caitlin, by far the least invested in the actual game itself, who have so far spent most of their time laughing on the end of the bench, watching the other three interact).

The innings go by pretty quickly and before they know it, it's time for one of the mid-game activities as the players switch out. There's music playing and mascots running around the field and all around them people are shuffling around to stretch and replenish their refreshments. Eddie and Cisco decide to make a beer run and Iris wants to use the bathroom, so Barry and Caitlin remain to hold down their seats and keep an eye on their assorted belongings.

"This is actually kind of fun," Caitlin comments, once the others are out of earshot, not wanting her initial skepticism to hurt Eddie's feelings. She's wearing a wide smile that is far more familiar than her outfit for the day—Barry has literally never seen her wear jeans before, let alone a baseball cap over her ponytail, but it's nice to see her looking so relaxed and happy (and honestly, it's a good look on her—both the causal clothes and the casual, easy smile). Caitlin, more than any of them, deserves it.

Barry nods his agreement before adding: "I wasn't really expecting it either," and it's true. He had pretty much planned on spending the afternoon feigning interest, the way he's always done when Joe gets on a sports kick, but between Eddie, Iris and Cisco getting into the game and Caitlin asking increasingly ridiculous questions (trying to befuddle an increasingly excited and tipsy Cisco), he's laughed more than he has in ages. For the first time in a long time, he actually feels pretty normal. Just an average guy at a game with his four best friends, drinking beer, eating hotdogs and joking around. "It's nice to be normal."

Caitlin's laugh, bright as the afternoon sunshine, draws a grin from him. "It's not bad, this whole having a life thing, is it?" This is definitely the most progress they've made since that fateful night out a little over four months ago. For all of their best intentions, most weeks they get so busy saving the city that they keep letting their own lives slide.

"And not as hard as I thought it would be," Barry teases right back. He's about to say something else when he hears Cisco laughing wildly. Both he and Caitlin turn toward the familiar sound, only to see him pointing toward one of the big screens.

With mirrored looks of confusion, Barry and Caitlin shrug at one another and turn to see what's got their friend in hysterics. They turn in tandem to watch their faces color on the screen, the words 'Kiss Cam' floating just below their shoulders and the crowd around them suddenly catching on and cheering encouragingly.

Grinning, still faintly embarrassed, Barry gives another shrug and asks the silent question. Never one to back down from a challenge, Caitlin nods vaguely. They lean forward for a quick peck, only for Barry to realize at the last minute that Caitlin's baseball cap is in the way so he leans back out and brings up a hand to catch at the brim. With a gentle motion, he pulls it back and slowly slides it down her ponytail, his smile turning a little sheepish with the tenderness of the action (and the collective 'awws' that echo around them).

With her hat still gripped in one hand, Barry lifts his other to brush a few loose tendrils of hair from her face and bring her forward to meet him. They share a quick kiss, to the resounding approval of the crowd, before pulling back, cheeks dusted with more than a little hint of red that has nothing to do with the sunshine above. His fingers linger against her neck for a moment before dropping, both of them ignoring Cisco's laughter behind them, even as he calls out to the approaching Eddie and Iris and starts to share the story.

"That was slightly less normal," Caitlin comments after a moment, meeting his eyes with a playful roll, trying to get back to their earlier conversation without dwelling too much on what's just transpired.

"True," Barry says with an easy laugh, letting her humor and the sound break the bit of tension that's built between them. Raising her hat back up, he shifts a little in his seat, first to knock her shoulder with his, then to carefully settle her cap back into place, tugging her ponytail through once more, letting the strands slip lazily through his fingers. He's wearing a bright grin as he starts to move his attention back to the game that's starting up again below. "But still nice."

* * *

Just a little baseball game fun. Sorry for my utter lack of baseball knowledge.

I am totally in love with the idea of the 5 of them becoming friends, especially with the idea of Barry moving on from Iris and falling for Caitlin, so I spent some time building that in here. I definitely want to do more of those sorts of stories, as last chapter's scene also shows. Hopefully you guys enjoy that idea too!

Also, quick fyi: I'm going to be out of town with family this afternoon through Monday sometime, so there won't be any story updates until then but I should be able to get one up again Monday night when I get back. Sorry, no wifi in the great north woods!

As always, comments and suggestions are most welcome :)

Best Wishes,

AOR


	47. She's Just a Friend

Tumblr Prompt: snowleyton asked: Hi! First of all - love all your work :) Second - I have a little prompt. How about an alternative version of 1x12 scene at the bar when Linda approaches Barry - where instead of Linda some guy comes to Barry asking if Caitlin's his girlfriend cause he would be interested in her ;) Some jealous and protective Barry with 'she's just a friend line' followed by realization that it might not be the case anymore ;)

* * *

_**She's Just a Friend**_

* * *

"She's just a friend." The words are out of his mouth before he can process exactly what's going on or being asked. It's a phrase that has become a familiar mantra over the years even though they've always been directed at someone completely different. He's never even thought about Caitlin in that context before—not as someone who could be more than a friend or as someone who might be mistaken for more than a friend. Truth be told, he hasn't really taken the time to think of anyone in that light, not in years. He's spent so much time being so caught up in Iris West that the idea that anyone else could step into that role seems utterly strange.

Except that apparently to the guy standing two feet away, leaned up against the bar with a beer in his hand, it isn't really that strange at all. In fact, apparently it seems plausible enough for said guy to approach him the second Caitlin excuses herself to the restroom, for the explicit purpose of asking.

Barry's honest, completely unhesitant answer draws a bright, eager grin from the guy, which causes Barry to do a double take and really look at him—now that he's not quite so caught off guard. He seems harmless enough, with his short-cropped blonde hair, button down shirt and khakis, he looks like he's either out with old friends or just off of work. He's a bit taller than Barry is, certainly wider across the chest, with a sharp, square jaw and an easy going look on his face that makes him seem like the type whose not afraid to strike up a conversation with a pretty girl out at the bar—which is exactly what he's trying to do. The fact that he has the decency to make sure she's available first is probably also a tally in his favor, but in the time it takes him to realize all this, Barry isn't really sure he wants this guy to have any tallies.

Which is also strange because isn't that kind of why they're here (besides tracking a possible meta-human menace of course), to start having a life? And wouldn't Caitlin talking to, maybe flirting with, some guy at a bar qualify as her doing just that?

So why does that idea suddenly cause his stomach to lurch a little—unsettling, uncomfortable, and unpleasant—as if he were the one whose been downing too many drinks too quickly since they got here?

"Really man? That's great, I mean, seems a little crazy that someone as pretty and fun as her would be available but great to know." He's too eager, Barry decides, even as he sounds completely earnest in his enthusiasm. Caitlin's just putting herself out there for the first time; she doesn't need the likes of Mr. Dimples here putting too much pressure on her—she should be easing in back in to a social life, to dating.

He tells himself that it's his protective instincts, the same ones that drive him to risk his life to save Central City day in and day out, that cause the next flood of words to spill from his mouth, just as unconsciously as the first ones had. "She is," because even if he's never put her into that context before, he's not blind or stupid. Caitlin is so much more than pretty, she's absolutely beautiful, inside and out and he always has a good time when they're hanging out, even (especially) when she's stone cold sober and going on about something as complicated as gene therapy or pulling vacuum tubes from her purse or just nagging at him to be more careful. "But she lost her fiancé not that long ago, I'm not really sure she's ready to be getting back out there."

He feels like an absolute ass for the words as soon as they're out there because he knows that she's trying to prove the exact opposite of that tonight (and also because the guy looks so genuinely disappointed but also completely understanding and of course he has to be so nice about it) but Barry can't help it, they're out there now and he can't take them back. And if he's being completely honest (to himself and no one else) he also doesn't want to take them back, not when Mr. Dimples nods, thanks him and wishes him goodnight, heading back to the group of guys he must be here with.

Left alone, Barry contemplates his words, his sudden change of heart and the new perspective unraveling in the back of his mind. When the bartender comes back his way, he orders a water and watches for Caitlin to return to the bathroom. When she does another minute later, looking a little bit dizzy and distressed but still managing to take him by surprise (wearing that outfit, beaming brightly, laughing eagerly as she grabs for the water he hands her) he wonders how he's managed to go so long being completely oblivious. Yes, he's been distracted by Iris, but Caitlin's been burrowing her way into his heart for months now—surely it shouldn't have taken some former frat boy showing interest to jump start his own awareness for the picture they paint when they're together? He wonders, as he smiles softly and takes her hand to help steady her, how many other people have jumped to that same conclusion.

And, an hour later as he watches her sleep, looking just as pretty with her hair all a mess and wearing a pair of baggy, old-fashioned pajamas as she had in her dress, he wonders why it's taken him so long to question the honesty behind his canned response of "she's just a friend".

* * *

Some day I'd like to write a next morning follow up, with Barry waiting for her with coffee having spent the night pondering this further, needing coffee himself to keep awake because it had him tossing and turning and then wanting to see her as soon as she got to work so that he could test this hypothesis immediately. As it is, this stands but hopefully you'll see this eventually.

Thanks for the prompt! Comments, feedback, ideas for continuing into the next morning and Barry's sleepless night are all very much appreciated :)

Also, I apologize for the long stretch since my last update-my cousin is in hospice, due to an advancement in her brain cancer. I'm not sure when I'll update next, as I've been spending all of my time since Friday with her and our family but since I had to drive home for a meeting, I wanted to get an update and explanation out.


	48. Just Another Tuesday

Anonymous asked: Can you write a snowbarry fic where there is a lot of cuddle and fluff between Barry and Caitlin but they are only friends even if they have feelings for each other? Maybe Dr Wells and Cisco talking about how stupid in love Barry and Caitlin are?

* * *

_**Just Another Tuesday**_

* * *

They're at it again: hovering in each other's gravity, moving around each other in tandem, without even realizing that they're doing it. Cisco has been watching his two best friends invade each other's personal space with increasing regularity for months now, fascinated. It's almost like they're magnets, drawing one another in inexorably, slowly bringing the space between them to a close.

It's kind of adorable.

It's also kind of obnoxious; but only because they're so oblivious to it happening. (That being said, he still has plenty of fun watching it and making offhand comments that they never seem to catch on to).

It's a slow day at the lab, so Caitlin's reading up on some journal article, something about photosynthetic integration, and Barry is hovering over her shoulder, reading along with his chin suspended just half an inch shy of touching her. Every now and again, he gets distracted by what he's reading and his head begins to drop, skimming the flesh her dress leaves bare and causing him to jerk abruptly up, just scarcely out of range again. The whole thing is completely is ridiculous and unnecessary, because Caitlin's scapula is definitely pressed against the line of Barry's clavicle, so what's another point of contact?

If they think they're fooling anyone, they could not possibly be more wrong.

Cisco has been watching this play out from the get-go, from the first day he realized that Barry seemed to have the power to drive Caitlin crazy, much the same way Ronnie once had. He's watched them, separately, assemble and take stock of their broken pieces and he's watched them, working together, then begin to knit them back into place. He's been hanging on the fringes of dozens of quiet looks and silent conversations, picking up the static that all but crackles the air between them, watching the tension build with all the inevitability of a nuclear reaction.

He and Dr. Wells have actually got a bet going, Joe's in on it too: what precisely will provide the spark the throws them absolutely over the edge, hurtling forward into that indefinable something that they're not so casually tiptoeing around.

Dr. Wells, a scientist to the core, chooses to lay his money on the variable he knows best: Caitlin. He's got fifty on her being the one to push them over, reacting to some manner of injury Barry is no doubt destined to sustain in the name of saving someone else. He's sure that her worry will reach a fever pitch and break her; that the words (or the actions) will be a knee jerk reaction to almost losing him and that she'll give in to the emotions that have been slowly eroding away at her carefully constructed walls since the moment Barry opened his eyes and she demanded a urine sample.

Joe, true to form, is betting his money on Barry. After Captain Cold's little kidnapping stunt, and the wild eyed panic that it had driven Barry into, Joe is sure it will somehow be Caitlin's life coming on the line that will force a confession from Barry. Terrified at the prospect of losing her, wrapped up in the memory of losing another woman he loved, he'll spill his guts to everyone else, then swoop in and save the day, before breathing a gentle, grateful confession in the way he'll swear to keep her safe and out of danger forever.

Cisco supposes those are both relatively understandable, and relatively likely, options. Given everything that's happened to all of them these last six months, there's no doubt there will be opportunities for both of those scenarios to play out in both the near and far future.

All the same, he favors a far less dramatic resolution to this slowly scaling tension. He bets his fifty on it happening on a regular day, nothing major, no chaos or danger or death dodging around their door—just some small shift in their perspective. It might be a long lingering touch that finally gets acknowledged, or maybe the wide-eyed catch of emerald and mahogany or the breathless mix of their laughter over something completely unfunny—something completely ordinary, little moments he sees played out so often they're almost easy to overlook.

So much of what's happened to them has been big and dramatic that what's happening between them is (and should be) their much-deserved counterpoint: slow and settling and comfortable, like falling asleep (or just falling in love).

Cisco collects his winnings on a Tuesday afternoon, grinning widely and barely able to contain his laughter when he walks in on a kiss that seems a little too sweetly bumbling to be well practiced. Backing out silently, grateful to have walked in and out unnoticed, he watches them draw apart, looking dumbstruck until Barry smiles softly and tucks a strand of hair behind Caitlin's ear.

"You know, I swear I just came in here to ask you a question," Barry starts, his voice as full of awe as his eyes, staring down at Caitlin as if he's seeing her for the very first time. "But I can't really remember what it was."

Cisco's already striding down the hallway to find Dr. Wells when Caitlin laughs fondly, rolls her eyes and rolls onto her toes to meet him for another kiss.

* * *

So just a light and fluffy Cisco-thought-centric piece. I kinda like the idea that Cisco sees all this going on and spends a great deal of time thinking about it, analyzing it like a math problem and then being the most unconventionally romantic one of the three. And you know, I always love a little Joe time in fics :)

Thoughts/comments/suggestions always welcome. This is a little bit different piece, so I hope you guys enjoyed it, esp the anon who requested!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	49. Tying Knots

_Anonymous asked: Hi! I have a request :) Not a couple yet!Snowbarry - Barry has to tie a tie and Caitlin helps him, which leads to intense eye contact ;)_

* * *

_**Tying Knots**_

* * *

Caitlin gets one good look at him before she bursts into a peal of laughter, the sound completely graceless in its volume and lack of restraint, but probably the most unrestricted that Barry has ever heard her. In any other circumstance, the sound of Caitlin's laugh would tug a smile across his lips but today it pulls them down rather than up, though his brows compensate curiously for the difference. He's suppose to be on his way to the Central City Service Workers' Award banquet, an event he would typically skip, except that this year he's going to watch Joe receive an outstanding service citation. Of course, because they can never catch a break, there had been the inevitable crime to deal with, so he'd had to change in the lab. Moving a few miles an hour too quickly, he'd swapped his suits and was just emerging from the locker room when Caitlin's chuckles stopped him in his tracks.

"What?" He can't help it, the smile comes anyway as her laughter continues to warm the room and he watches her dissolve into a fit of giggles that flush her face with red and leave her dark eyes dancing with mirth, slightly bent over and one hand covering her mouth as if to muffle the sound (totally ineffective, but endearing nonetheless).

It takes Caitlin a long minute to reign herself in, drawing breath like she's been drowning and shaking her head fondly when she walks a little closer, heels clicking against the lab floor. "You look like you got changed in the dark Barry; your tie is atrocious." One hand sweeps a gesture at his front to punctuate the comment: not that it needs it because the problem is pretty obvious.

Following the arc of her hand, Barry looks down for the first time, only to notice immediately that she's correct (as always). Not only is his tie pulled crooked, and much too short, but in his haste to get ready he's managed to get his buttons off by one, so they tug jaggedly as they climb toward his collar. How had he not noticed that when he was getting dressed? Heaving a sigh, breathy and amused more than anything else, he lifts his hands and begins to address the problem, starting by tugging out and resetting his lopsided shirt. "I guess sometimes it's better to take your time," he jokes, undoing the last button before working his way back up. When he finishes refastening those, Barry begins to fiddle with his tie as he contemplates if it's worth backtracking t0 the locker room to try and fix it—he's never tied one without a mirror to guide his hands, but it's not something he feels like admitting to.

He needn't worry. As if she senses the uncertainty, Caitlin steps immediatley forward, her smile affectionate and her head shaking once more. "Here, let me," and then her fingers—swift and sure and so familiar from their many efforts to keep him alive—are dancing at the juncture of his chest and throat, carefully tugging loose the silk fabric knotted there and skimming against his covered clavicle. It takes her a little finagling, because of course he's also knotted the tie too tightly, but she manages to get it undone and begins to smooth the fabric out against his chest.

The brush of her fingers, warm and light, catches him by surprise. His gaze, previously unfocused as he runs through his mental checklist (wallet, arrival time, table number), snaps back to attention, the green honing in on the woman in front of him, now separating her hands to grasp each end of the red silk fabric. Leaning back, casting a critical eye, she gently tugs until she has the lengths where she wants them and then begins to loop the two sides together with the same certainty she might use to stitch up a wound (the intensity of her gaze in that situation all too familiar). It's not until she's nearly done, settling the knot carefully back against his throat, that she feels the weight of his eyes upon her, heavy and lingering.

Caitlin ignores it for a moment, slipping those same fingers down to smooth the tie out once more, but the prickle it runs along the back of her neck is distracting, so she gives in to the impulse and looks up.

Her gaze catches his immediately and gets stuck there. Fingertips still pressed to his chest, the teasing smile she'd been wearing stutters and fades away, softening to the barest, slightest, absent-minded curl of her lips. For far too many heartbeats, they both drown in the silence surrounding them—something that's been happening with increased frequency the last few months. (She tells herself it isn't because she's getting lost in the story that trails through those green eyes, that it isn't because she's searching for a confirmation that he's looking for the same ending to that story that she is, but she knows it's a lie before the thoughts are even fully formed. She knows exactly why they keep getting sidetracked like this; she's just not ready to admit to it yet. And she's almost certain that threading through that story are those exact same thoughts, same tentative hopes and hollow fears).

Eventually, it's the beep of Barry's phone that startles them out of it, eyes blinking back their surprise at the high-pitched chirp, even as they both redden. Digging into his jacket pocket, Barry shuts off the alarm and sighs: time to go, the banquet starts in ten minutes.

But as he turns to go, he realizes that he doesn't want to leave the lab. Or rather, he doesn't want to leave the current company at the lab. In the span of time it takes for that thought to flutter through his mind, he's cursing himself for not thinking of it sooner—he doesn't really have to leave current company at all.

He looks down at Caitlin, still a little flushed and still standing (definitely not) too close.

"I know its really late notice Caitlin, but would you want to come to the banquet with me? Joe adores you," a 'so do I' hangs in the balance, unspoken, "so he'd be really happy to see you and this whole night would be a million times better with you there. And you already look beautiful, definitely dressed for the occasion," he's doing that rambling thing he does, she's doing that biting her lip thing she does and when he trails off they're both doing that staring thing they do…at least until she nods, smiling, and says 'I'd love to,' and then he's scooping her up and flashing them there, just in time to get seats before it starts.

(One day, he'll wear another tie knotted by her gentle fingers and he'll tell a story of that first knot and how it leads them to tying a different one together and she'll beam through happy tears while everyone around them roars with laughter.)

* * *

So I know the look was one of the lesser parts of the story, but hopefully the build up fits well and the aftermath is enjoyable—I know I had a blast writing this one! I love tying ties as a story theme, but I've never actually gotten to write one before this.

I totally had this grand plan to upload a few chapters so I could post over my vacation in Alaska, however, I learned that I can't access story updating on my phone so now that I'm back at the airport and have wifi, we're back on track!

Feedback always appreciated, thanks for your support everyone! Hope you all enjoyed it!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	50. Fatherly Observations

_**Fatherly Observations**_

* * *

It's a scene that's played out so many times before that it should be old hat, but watching him Flash off into unknown danger, knowing that he's the type of man who will gladly lay his life on the line for a stranger, still makes it anything but routine. So like she always does, Caitlin asks him to be careful, to take the time to analyze the situation before rushing headlong into it and then smiles softly, sadly, when he meets her eyes and nods, the promise of 'I'm always careful' lingering behind on the hint of the breeze that whisks him away (when push comes to shove, she knows he'll make the reckless choice if it means saving someone else, no matter his promises).

She heaves a sigh, shakes her head in exasperation (causing her already disarrayed curls to dance haphazardly across her shoulders) and looks to Joe for a shared expression of commiseration: that boy will be the death of them. But Joe, standing next to hear in the alley outside the police station, is smiling faintly, his attention all for Caitlin, rather than the son he's just watched speed away.

"He'll be fine Caitlin," he reassures, in that steady way that Joe has, placing a hand on her shoulder to calm her racing nerves. Over the past year and a half, as she's grown closer to Barry, she's also grown closer to Joe and she's incredibly grateful for that. Joe is everything her father never was, and it feels a little bit like a gift to be able to glimpse and experience some of what she missed growing up in her relationship with Barry's foster father. (Apparently taking in strays is a habit he hasn't quite given up on, because he's become protective over both Cisco and herself, checking in and offering advice freely whenever the opportunity presents).

The touch helps, it centers her and eases the spike of her pulse, the hitch in her breathing and Caitlin can't help but wonder if Joe does it unconsciously, because that's how he is: easy with affection, or if he does it because he knows how important actual, physical touch is to her. Barry had told her once, months ago as they sipped their way through their morning coffee and talked about philosophy, about his love language theory—detailing the idea, explaining what he thought fit each person. At the time, the realization that he could read them all so accurately had astounded her, but now she's not the least bit surprised. She wonders if he's shared that theory with Joe as well, because the man, seeing the tension still pulling across her face, slides his arm across her shoulder to tug her into a one-armed hug, squeezing the reassurance he'd spoken just moments ago. The ache in her chest loosens a bit more, both her heart and her lungs finding some calm, and Caitlin gratefully burrows into the embrace, releasing a heavy breath.

"I know, I just worry." It doesn't feel like it should be such an admission—no one who knows her, who sees her interact with Barry, can doubt that she worries—and yet she feels an unexpected weight in the words as her eyes linger on the place where he'd last been visible, when he'd still been moving slowly enough to stay in sight.

"Pitfall of love: the more you care, the more you worry." Joe's words are light as feathers but they cause Caitlin to startle beneath his arm and stare at him with wide-eyed disbelief. They've never had this conversation, she's never had this honest conversation with herself let alone anyone else and yet he puts the words into the world as if they're as obvious as a sunrise, inevitable and visible and beautifully there for everyone to take in.

Her reaction draws a chuckle from his throat, a strong counterpoint to the previous tone of the conversation. She just looks so surprised that he can't help himself.

Honestly, they must all think he's blind, these kids of his. They're his world: Iris of course and Barry but now Caitlin and Cisco (and God help him, Eddie—his partner turned probable future son-in-law) too. The world he tries so hard to build each day, fighting the good fight and making Central City safe, is a world he wants for them. It's them he's working to protect each time he straps on his vest and picks up his badge (even if they've all proven in their own way how little they truly need his protection): do they really think he misses the way they interact with one another? That he hasn't noticed how these five individuals have shifted and grown together to create this one little (albeit ragtag) family?

Okay, sure, he might have missed Eddie and Iris as they started, but he's learned to keep a closer eye from that, especially with the Flash in play (it adds so much more safekeeping, but he cannot begrudge them their desire to help build that better world, especially not when they're so passionate about it).

He's seen the way Cisco and Caitlin have invited Barry into their world, the way those three connect on a level that Iris and Barry, still best friends always, just can't; how they can embrace and combine and challenge one another's intellectual passions. He's also seen how Eddie and Barry, with Iris no longer a wedge between them, have become brothers of sorts, how Cisco's slowly drawn into that fold as well, the boys nights that he doesn't think any of them have every really known before. He's watched his Iris, sweet and caring and curious Iris, learn Caitlin's tragedies and share her own, has seen them connect and develop the kind of deep female friendship he'd always worried his motherless daughter was lacking in life.

And he's also watched Barry and Caitlin find each other when they weren't even looking, seen first hand how they've come to rely on one another and understand each other. Brought together by their pasts both littered with loss, their love of science and their tireless desire to do better for others, they've forged a bond that he knows is made of the kind of thing that lasts. It's not the sort of thing that makes love a necessity—those types of relationships can be perfectly platonic—and yet along the way, he's watched them fall in love nonetheless: a deep, connected, selfless love that causes them to break into pieces, wracked with equal parts anxiety and guilt, each time the outside world threatens that love.

Like right now. Caitlin's shock has gradually melted away, replaced once more with the anxiety of the moment's prior. Her teeth worry at her lower lip and her eyes are distant again, rather than wide with surprise. She seems to have accepted his assessment, realizing there is no way to refute it, and is no longer letting even that brief thought distract her. He leaves her to it, knows there's no good way to ease the burden, but offers his support in the form of another squeeze around her shoulders, gladly letting her steal his warmth and his presence for whatever comfort they bring.

"Does it ever get any easier?" She asks, long after the silence has grown weary of dominating the space between them.

It takes Joe half a beat of his own slightly elevated heart rate to realize what she's referring to and when he does, he just smiles and lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Not really, but you do get a lot better at savoring the reunions."

The flush that steals across her cheeks at his implications, from the most innocent to the least, draw out his chuckle again, this time accompanied by an amused shake of his head. "C'mon, Barry's going to be fine. Why don't we call it quits on the real jobs today and make sure there's dinner ready when he gets back from saving the world?"

It's not the first time she's been at the West house before, not even the first time she's rolled up her sleeves to help cook—not between holidays and cookouts and Joe's Annual Summer Block Party—so that part of the day is nothing out of the ordinary. It does, however, end rather unusually, when compared with previous visits.

Wrapped up in relief and Barry Allen, kissing on the front porch, she can't bring herself to mind.

* * *

In case you haven't figured it out yet, I adore Joe. I love his relationship with both Barry and Iris and I love how the writers have slowly brought him into the fold and expanded that fatherly presence. Thi was written sometime mid-season ish, for perspective.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	51. Sunshine on a Cloudy Day

_Anonymous asked: Hey! :) I know you're probably busy with grading and all, but I was just going to ask if you could do something with this prompt: (insipired by merodraws) caitlin has period cramps and stays home, barry gets worried and goes over to her house, sees her like that and stays to help her through the pain :) thank you!_

* * *

_**Sunshine on a Cloudy Day**_

* * *

Cisco mentions it by accident, sometime around midday when he's texting Barry an update about the latest goings-on at the lab, checking in to let him know that, at least on their end, the city is quiet today. He's just asked the physicist something about Caitlin, when he gets back a brief text that she called in sick that morning, with absolutely no follow up before Cisco launches into a flurry of messages recalling some test he'd finished running on the Flash suit earlier. In his excitement, he clearly misses the brief, halting messages Barry sends that are a sign of his anxiety over the news that Caitlin's not well—it's incredibly unusual for her to call in sick.

Barry debates texting her to check in but ultimately decides against it, worried that he'll wake her if she's resting and instead resolves to just stop by her apartment after work. Still, despite the decision, the worry lingers in the back of his mind all day, building up possible scenarios bad enough to keep workaholic Caitlin Snow away from the lab.

Thankfully the day remains quiet on all sides and Barry is actually able to leave at a normal time, grabbing his bag and heading downstairs to the main floor of the precinct. Like he usually does, he sets his course to pass Joe's desk and let him know that there's no new meta-human catastrophes to deal with. Predictably, rather than getting ready to go, both Joe and Eddie are surrounded by stacks of reports they've been putting off the last few days.

"Quiet day at the lab," Barry mentions by way of greeting, his code to Joe that all is well. The older man glances up at the greeting and nods (looking not a little bit grateful to have one less thing on his plate today).

"Headed home then? Want to pick something up for dinner? I shouldn't be too much longer." Joe asks as Barry trades a silent greeting with Eddie who has also looked up from the report he's skimming through, not the least bit sad for a distraction.

Barry shakes his head slightly at the second question. "I'm actually going to stop by Caitlin's and see how she's doing—Cisco said she stayed home sick today."

Joe wants to tease him about that, but instead he falls into worry himself, knowing just how stubborn Caitlin is about going to work and instantly imagining the worst. Luckily, Eddie lacks the same level of familiarity, so he takes the open opportunity to grin knowingly instead. "Little worried there Allen?" he adds, cheeky smile still firmly in place, a hint of implication coloring his words.

He knows too well where this is going, has seen it crop up far too often lately, so Barry just shakes his head, rolls his eyes and bids them goodnight.

He makes a pit stop at their favorite lunch spot for a take out container of chicken soup before heading to her place. He may not know what's got Caitlin feeling under the weather, but soup is good on any occasion so he figures he can't go wrong. Once he's double checked that it's securely closed, Barry speeds off and is outside Caitlin's apartment door in seconds, fist tapping gently against the wood and calling out softly: "Hey Caitlin, it's Barry. You alright?"

It doesn't take long for her to open the door, wearing the same set of pajamas he'd once helped her into, her curls a little frizzy and a surprised look on her face. "Barry, what are you doing here?" But she steps back automatically nonetheless, welcoming him into her apartment.

The place is familiar now in a way it wasn't almost a year ago, when he'd first set foot inside. Now movie nights and late night meta-human issues and team dinners have made him a frequent visitor, so he moves straight to her kitchen to set down the soup, leaving his bag hanging on the hook next to the door where Caitlin likes those things kept. "Cisco said you stayed home sick today, so I came to see if you were okay," he explains as she pads after him, a little bemused by how easily Barry makes himself at home. He holds up the large take-out container. "And I brought your favorite soup."

He sounds so proud of his thoughtfulness that she has to laugh, the action simultaneously filling the room and drawing a miniscule wince that pulls at the corners of her eyes. Barry, zeroed in on her expression, doesn't fail to notice but figures she'll explain if she feels inclined so he doesn't ask. Sure enough, a second later she reigns in the light sound, the hint of a blush stealing across her cheekbones as she watches him with a lingering smile. "You didn't have to do that Barry," she assures, a surge of warm affection spreading through her. "I'm not really sick, just some bad abdominal cramps, nothing to worry about." She says it with the ease of a doctor though she fully expects the comment to throw Barry off.

Like he seems so apt to do though, Barry surprises her by nodding in understanding and then flashing away, only to return with a tub of butter pecan ice cream and a spoon a few moments later. "So what you're saying," he starts, grinning, "is that you need ice cream, not soup."

She laughs again, shaking her head with her amusement before gesturing over to her couch. "I can't exactly say no to butter pecan," she tells him, sinking into the puffy dark grey fabric and indicating that he is welcome to do the same. He does, unhaltingly, dropping down into the plush couch and angling himself toward Caitlin, offering both the ice cream and the spoon.

Grabbing the remote, she hits play on the documentary she was watching when he knocked and takes the tub and spoon, easing off the cover and setting it on the far edge of the coffee table, far away from where she props up her feet. Barry follows suit, nestling a little deeper into the cushions and unconsciously pulling her into his center of gravity as the couch dips under his weight. Caitlin doesn't seem to mind finding herself suddenly nestled against Barry's side, digging the spoon into her ice cream and holding it up every now and then for Barry to swipe and enjoy a bite.

They finish the documentary curled up on the couch, the empty ice cream container and abandoned spoon on the nearby coffee table. Eventually Caitlin shivers, her face pulling tight again with the return of the dull but persistent pain in her abdomen and Barry untangles himself without a word to rummage through her medicine cabinet. When he returns with Tylenol, water and a heating pad it's all Caitlin can do to keep from pulling him into a hug. Instead, she resituates into a more comfortable position, sprawled across one end of the couch, cuddled into a pillow and covered with a blanket, the heating pad easing her muscles. Barry smiles fondly and slips under her stretched out feet, carefully kneading them and suggesting the next documentary theme to watch.

The rest of the evening passes relatively the same—wrapped up in the history channel on demand, sharing a blanket and with Barry's hands moving soothingly along her calf and feet. It lulls Caitlin into the first hint of true peace she's had since the cramps began two days prior.

"I wouldn't have expected you to be so good at this," Caitlin murmurs after their third documentary, half asleep with her legs still slung haphazardly across his lap.

He huffs a little indignantly, but his shaking head wears a teasing smile that belies the noise. "Well, I did grow up with Iris—she's not exactly shy about sharing how she feels."

Her laugh is wonderfully sleepy as she tries to nod laying on her side. The very sight of it makes him chuckle and trail his left hand from her calf, where it had been resting, down to her ankle, tracing minute patterns on the flesh left exposed where her pajamas have ridden up. "I suppose."

"What was that?" Barry teases, suddenly feeling awake. "You're right Barry, I should have given you more credit. Is that what I heard?"

She reaches over to swat at his arm, but he easily catches her outstretched digits, using the hold to pull her up a little, closer to him. "Ready for bed Dr. Snow?"

Caitlin is surprised to realize she is—ready for sleep and far more relaxed then she's been in days. She smiles at him, about to stand when he's scooping her into his arms and flashing her to her room. "Very much so," she answers, somewhat uselessly, against his chest. It's not just the ice cream and the heating pad that have her feeling better—it's definitely Barry and she's so grateful for that, even if she's not quite ready to tell him. "Very much so."

* * *

There you are, a little fluff for you. I'm going to try and update more like every other day, because I have an insane backlog of fics, but part of my delay is always making sure I have the time to go back through and do a quality job of polishing before posting here.

Thanks for the feedback, as always!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	52. call it karma, call it bad luck, call it

Anonymous asked: Prompt idea? Meta-Caitlin and Barry being frustrated that only Ronnie can come near or touch her. (Fighting the feeling/denial type thing.) have a good night/day! :)

* * *

_**call it karma, call it back luck, call it a cruel twist of fate**_

* * *

If there exists a lifetime achievement award for poor timing, Barry Allen is no doubt a front-runner. If competition even exists in his bracket, they are likely distant echoes of brief ironies that pale in comparison because really, how can this be happening again? How can he, once again, have fallen in love with the wrong woman, at the wrong time (or really, just the right woman at the absolute worst time)? He's never been one to believe in fate, but he's running out of logical explanations for how on Earth this can keep happening.

Maybe it's karma. Maybe it's bad luck. Maybe he just needs start opening his own two eyes a little earlier. Maybe he needs to start learning from his mistakes and saying something before it's too damn late.

Except, he's pretty sure it doesn't really matter anymore. It's already too damn late and he's definitely sure he never wants to fall in love and do this all over again. Iris had been his first love and watching his chance with her slip through his fingers (repeatedly because thank you time travel) had been painful. It had torn him apart, left him a shell of his usual buoyant personality but he had recovered and moved on. It hadn't been easy, but with time, he'd done it.

But Caitlin? Caitlin is the true love he's always believed in and he knows, watching them from across the lab, that there will be absolutely no recovering from this.

When her powers had begun to develop, it had snapped into place all the little pieces that were swimming around in the back of his mind, all the little misinterpreted emotions that he'd been passing off as friendship for over a year. The thought of losing her, of her uncontrollable powers draining away the woman he had come to rely on so much, left him devastated in a way he hadn't been since the night he watched his mother die. In that moment, watching her skin pale and her eyes drain of their usual dancing warmth, he knew he was in love with her and there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her safe.

It's a knife to the gut to realize the only thing, or rather person, that can do that is her former fiancé. Only Firestorm's constant warmth has been able to balance out the effects of Killer Frost's chill, despite their many, increasingly desperate attempts to find an alternate solution.

Barry's pained gaze focuses on the way they're curled together, standing a little ways apart from everyone else. Without really meaning to, he thinks back to that afternoon, so very long ago, when he'd first worked up the courage to ask Caitlin about Ronnie and she'd smiled that far away, wistful smile and told him about the nicknames he'd given them: fire and ice. They're so appropriate now that it breaks his heart into tiny pieces, like the shattered surface of a frozen lake, and then sets those pieces ablaze.

It only hurts worse when her gaze catches his, startlingly blue now but still achingly familiar anyway, and he can read the way she feels torn in two and he knows, dammit he knows, that she's feeling all the same things he is.

* * *

I'm pretty sure this was more of an angst-fest then a denial but hopefully it suited. Figured I'd upload one more today (so that's 4 I think?) so that both websites got some new content. Also planning to upload a piece of my Snowbarry/Pacific Rim au a little bit later tonight or tomorrow before work. Feedback always greatly appreciated!

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	53. wake up call

_Anonymous asked: Barry slept in and Caitlin has to wake him up :)_

* * *

_**wake up call**_

* * *

He wakes up to the delightfully familiar feeling of lips against his jaw and long, dark curls tickling his face and neck—the smile that bolts across his lips, quick as his alter ego, crows out her victory before he can so much as speak a word.

Triumphant, Caitlin pulls back to hover over him, grinning in that cheeky, private way she only does for him: lips tugged slightly upward, eyes bright, little lines collecting at their edges. Like it usually does, the look captivates the entirety of his attention, no thought for anything or anyone else, his eyes lingering heavily on her smiling mouth even as he quirks a questioning brow. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this wake up call?" Barry manages to ask, voice heavy from something far more satisfying than sleep.

Still grinning, playful and secretive, Caitlin presses forward once more, zeroes her lips to his, and lets the question lay unanswered in the (nonexistent) space between them. It remains there awhile, abandoned in favor of more pressing matters (like the sweep of her tongue across and over his lips and the battle that ensues when his takes up the challenge equally eager), and Barry nearly forgets it completely as he simply enjoys the what rather than the why.

His fingers dig themselves out from beneath the dark blue sheets and trail lazily across her skin, burying themselves beneath the soft cotton of her tank top before dancing along her spine, tracing each rise and divot. When the light trail of his fingertips causes a shiver to steal up her back and break their kiss, the look of smug satisfaction that passes through his emerald gaze makes Caitlin laugh. It is utterly endearing (and also admittedly a bit arousing), how self-satisfied he gets when he knows he's having an effect on her—this man who saves the city and yet finds his greatest victories in making her knees quake and her heart stutter.

"I love you," she breathes into the morning air, the light through the blinds casting her golden (as if his heart hadn't already devoted that hue to her completely).

Barry lifts his forehead to press against hers; catching her eyes and delighting in the way her lashes flutter in the sparkle of sunlight. "I love you too." And then, he breaks the still and vaults into action once more, fingers reversing their trail along her spine to free themselves and tangle in the soft strands of her hair instead. Caitlin lets him pull her down for another long kiss, her own hands coming to rest along his rough-hewn jaw, dotted with a too-short weekend's worth of stubble. Her laugh breaks the air again, muttered against his kiss, as he groans his appreciation for the way her fingertips rake against the whiskers. "Urg, Cait," he manages, throat bobbing heavily while he adjusts his position below her, sneaking an ankle up to wrap around her calf, determined to pull her down and closer.

She's already guessed at his plans though: of course she has, she's Caitlin Snow. She's as brilliant as she is beautiful, she knows Barry front to back and, well, frankly it's not like it's a move he hasn't pulled a dozen devastatingly satisfying times before. Ironically, this time she's prepared and too quick for him: Caitlin wriggles out of his grasp just before Barry can pull her down against his chest. "Still curious about the wake up call?" She asks, bringing them back around to the start of his most excellent morning, eyes sparkling with mischief and the morning light once again.

Of course, he's been a little distracted the last few minutes, so Barry takes a few seconds to knit the confusion from his expression. The tilt of his head against the pillow is all the question she needs asked though. With a flash of a grin, Caitlin ducks down to press the quickest of kisses against his lips and then shifts her weight back to get out of bed. "You slept in late, Mr. Allen—time to get up and get ready for work. It's Monday."

* * *

If you couldn't already tell, I really enjoy short, dialogue light and imagery heavy scenes. Plus these two just have so much potential for slow, quiet, adorable interactions. Hope you enjoyed, feedback welcome!


	54. an intervention

_**An Intervention**_

* * *

They dance around one another like it's an Olympic sport, like it's a bodily necessity, like they have all the time in the world but only for each other. It starts slow: a smile here and a touch there, but it builds over time: shoulders pressed close together, looks that linger (so long and hard that you can practically feel the ache), conversations that seem to skip whole sentences yet miss no meaning one either side. As the months stretch on, everyone can see it occupy more and more of the space that increasingly diminishes between them, edging into an eventuality that only grows with each passing day.

Truth be told, they're all getting a little sick of waiting around and, knowing better than any of them that tomorrow is promised to no one, Joe eventually takes it upon himself to intervene.

He waits for the right moment, for a catalyst that he thinks will spark enough reaction to knock some sense into his foster son's head. Given that said foster son is The Flash, that danger seems more like a friend than a stranger as their doorstep, he doesn't have to wait too long.

Captain Cold steps his toes out of line again and Barry finds himself sprawled across his usual hospital bed in the sublevels of S.T.A.R. Labs, covered in salves and medical tape and the heavy, lingering aura of Caitlin's disapproval (which serves him right, they'd all warned him to be careful). Eddie is dealing with the internal fallout the conflict has created at the police station, Iris is deflecting media attention, Cisco and Wells are ensuring Captain Cold is on his way out of town and Caitlin, now thoroughly assured that he will heal and survive to scare her yet again, is clicking her way sharply out of the room. When the clatter of her heels has faded away, Joe turns to Barry with a heavy sigh.

"Bar, you gotta knock this off," he begins, dropping his weight against a counter, legs propped out in front of him and a hand running down his face; the result of far too many kinds of exhaustion.

Still flinching against the sting of frostbite, Barry manages the smallest nod and a sigh of his own. "It's just Cold Joe; he's always going to be someone who throws me off my game—he knows me too well." Knows all the best ways to get under his skin, all the right threats.

"I'm not talking about Snart kid," and despite the gravity of the conversation, he can't hold back his laugh at the way Barry's brows jump at his comment, resetting themselves against a wince almost immediately thereafter—Joe would feel bad, except again, he'd been warned. The chuckle rolls slowly off his tongue; coloring his next words as they tumble easily out. "I'm talking about Caitlin. How long as you going to dance around your feelings for her?"

Barry knows full and well that Joe isn't stupid, that he's one of the most observant men he's ever met, so Joe gives him the benefit of the doubt when he plays stupid, figuring it's probably a reflex more than reflection of his esteem. "What?"

He can't help it, Joe laughs again. "You're a lot of things kid, but subtle has never been one of them."

The way Barry's expression falls, utterly defeated, is equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking. Joe likes to think he did a pretty good job raising Barry (not that it was too hard, he was as good a kid then as he is a man now), but he can't help but wonder how this lack of faith in himself and his worthiness developed under his watch. Because the Barry Allen before him, looking utterly hopeless and bereft is not the man he expects to see. "I'm not going to nearly screw up another important relationship in my life Joe—I don't think lightning psychosis will work twice and I just can't lose this," the fingers in his non-frostbitten hand raise to gesture symbolically into the open space of the room, "not with her. I got through this once because I had Caitlin." She'd been his lifeline in those months when everything became well and truly impossible—not just her fake medical condition, but her understanding and support and her unshakable faith. "Besides, she has enough to worry about with Ronnie."

So that's the final nail in the coffin of Barry's self-confidence—their occasional visitor from out of town: Ronnie Raymond. Caitlin's former fiancé has popped in a few times in the last eight months, a helpful hand when it seems most needed but very clearly not someone Caitlin Snow is still in love with. Still loves, yes, there's no doubt but Joe can see as easily as the rest of them (or most of the rest of them) that she's as drawn to Barry's gravity as he is to hers. It's not like he's the only one instigating all those touches, glances and conversations, the give and take falls on both their shoulders.

"Ever stopped to think she might feel the same?" Joe asks, distracting Barry's internal struggle and drawing his eyes back from his lap again. "It's not Ronnie that she stayed in Central City for and it's not Ronnie that brings her favorite ice cream every time he scares her or does something stupid." It's not Ronnie that has a stash of butter pecan sitting in their freezer, single serve containers stacked in a neat little tower, ready for movie nights or vent sessions or a much needed smile when the weather turns stormy.

There's a light that settles in Barry's eyes, a hint of a smile that that quirks his lips for a moment. Sensing he's gaining ground, Joe opens his mouth to keep going but just then the sound of heels on linoleum fills the relative silence once more and he knows the window is gone. Caitlin strides back in, looking a little less thinly stretched than earlier, relief a palpable emotion rolling off of her the second she sees Barry holding himself up and having a conversation. "You look like you're doing a little better," she comments softly, her gaze trained solely on the bandaged super hero before they finally turn to acknowledge Joe again. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him."

"Anytime," Joe answers warmly. He sincerely hopes that Barry gets things through his apparently thick skull. God knows he likes Caitlin and wants to see her happy as much as he wants to see Barry happy—they could both use a little more joy in their lives. "But I should probably get back to the station and help Eddie finish sorting this mess out."

He's halfway out of the room, trading off goodbyes, when he pauses and calls out: "Think about what I said Bar," chuckling quietly to himself as he hears the first strains of Caitlin's curiosity over the comment.

A few hours later, when he finally gets home from the police station, Joe isn't terribly surprised to find two open spots in the freezer where there were once pints of butter pecan. He is a little more surprised to find a pint of blue moon at the front, a post-it note hastily stuck on top: _You're right, I'll work on it. Thanks Joe._

* * *

I've done Joe/Caitlin, Barry/Eddie, Felicity/Caitlin and Iris/Barry but I don't think I've ever done Joe/Barry talking about Snowbarry, so I had to write this. It actually spawned out of a prompt for nearly-dying/dying Barry to regret not telling Caitlin his feelings but this kind of took over.

I just pretty much love anytime Joe gets to be all wise and advice-y, so I keep writing bits of that places. I think he just wants everyone happy and is willing to be there for whatever gets that done. (Now I totally want to write Eddie/Caitlin. If you couldn't tell, I clearly adore everyone shipping snowbarry).

Thoughts/ideas/suggestions always welcome.


	55. i wanna be your left hand girl

Tag to the hug in episode 1x17, Tricksters.

* * *

_**i wanna be your left hand girl**_

* * *

She approaches him with her arms open, a quiet, subdued smile crawling hesitantly across her lips and despite himself, Barry feels a little bit better for that look on her face. There's no hesitance in the way he opens himself up to her, inviting her the rest of the way in with a raised arm and a steady, met gaze. Touch is their currency; an unspoken trade they make when the world presses in around them and contact is the only comfort to be found. It starts in big moments but it cascades into the little ones until it's as natural as breathing for both of them (and he's grateful, so very grateful).

Caitlin steps into his embrace with the ease of practice, wrapping her arms around him and edging up on to her toes just enough to allow her to bury her chin against his shoulder, knitting in close. Tangled against Barry, she squeezes out her understanding and support, a silent conversation that flows in the air between them, skin to skin, pressure point to pressure point.

Not that she really needs it herself (not the way he does in this moment), but Caitlin finds a sense of comfort (of equilibrium, of always too fleeting normal) in the way that Barry immediately melts into the hug, surrendering to the offered affection as he drops his face against her neck, nose and lips and cheek burrowing into the soft strands of her hair. She feels him squeeze back, long fingers tugging her shoulder (and upper body by association) more firmly against his, wedging them inexorably closer together.

If it were anyone but Caitlin, he might feel a little guilty about how fully and immediately he accepts her gesture, the way he sinks gratefully into her warmth, grasping a little tighter to extend the moment. But it is Caitlin, so he knows the guilt is unnecessary—knows that she wouldn't offer what she wasn't willing to give—so he buries his face against the familiar fragrance of her conditioner and allows himself the first deep breath that he thinks he's taken in days. The scent of lilies fills his lungs and coats the frayed edges of his nerves and Barry thinks maybe he can keep breathing this deeply for a while yet; that this moment can keep him afloat awhile. He lets himself steal one last inhale, one final lingering squeeze, before he lets his hand go slack and feels Caitlin respond to the signal by pulling away slowly.

When she does, he finds the smile on her lips has stretched a little just as she notices that his has yet to return. Still holding his gaze, hovering at the edge of his gravity, Caitlin drops her hand to linger down his arm, extending the comfort as she gives her explanation (not that it's needed, he'll take all the hugs she's willing to give—he's very much his father's son in that way). He's grateful, more than words can really say or convey, so he decides not to waste them—Caitlin doesn't need words from him anyway. She reads his relief (his appreciation, his gratitude) in the way he tilts his head and tugs his lips skyward briefly, just for her, the corners of his eyes crinkling for a flash of a second.

Barry watches the light of acknowledgement, of understanding and acceptance, shine bright in the warm brown of her eyes for a moment, soft and fond and completely for him, and then she's walking away, leaving him to sort out the last of his obligations with Dr. Wells.

There are still no easy decisions on that front, but at least now, bolstered by Caitlin's comfort and her faith in him, he feels ready to keep working towards the hard decisions.

* * *

So primarily friends hippy but clearly can read more there if you want. Just couldn't resist exploring this moment and putting in all the subtext. Hope I did it justice–thanks to the talented gif &amp; photo folks on tumblr for the posts of the hug–you totally inspired this.

Title credit and writing inspiration to Louisa Wendorf's cover of Riptide/Skinny Love/Ho Hey. Check it out if you haven't heard it.


	56. i'm holding you closer then most

snowbarry-swift asked: Hey! Could you please write a fic about the kiss in the new promo? I saw a post about how this person thinks that Barry is the metahuman/shapeshifter and that later on Caitlin goes up to Barry and tells him her real feelings and that makes Barry start thinking about his feelings towards her. Then that is why on during the wedding he looks upset. Something towards that idea would be great! Thx!

* * *

_**i'm holding you closer then most**_

* * *

Caitlin Snow is an absolute vision of beauty, standing before him in a dress he's never seen but will certainly never un-see either. Her hair is down in a loose tumble of curls that he knows, the second she steps outside, are going to be immediately whipped askew by the lazy spring breeze (and she'll just look prettier for the disarray). Pearls drip pale across her collarbone and earrings dangle glittering from her earlobes and she's absolutely gorgeous but it's her lips that snare the majority of his attention—painted a deep scarlet that makes his hearth throb in a way he would have never expected, a way he should not want to decipher—not ever and not in this moment especially—but in a way that he cannot help fixate on. (It's **his** red and he knows it, as sure as the blood and the lightning in his veins: a tiny, perhaps unconscious nod acknowledging the way he's ingrained himself in her life as thoroughly as she's done with his).

It takes only a few seconds of slightly slack jawed awe before his thoughts catch up with the flicker of his emerald gaze and he realizes that the expression those scarlet lips are twisted into is all wrong. Her smile is far too hesitant for this moment; this moment that she once thought she'd never have and should be embracing with a grin that stretches from one barely-there dimple to the next but doesn't. His own expression falters, the patiently built joy crumbling into worry as he continues to look closer, finally noticing that the hesitance in her smile has seeped into every muscle in her body.

"Caitlin, what's wrong?" It should startle him, that those are the first words they've spoken since she stepped out of the other room, that they've been standing and staring at one another for a span of time far too many heartbeats long, but it doesn't. (Everything about Caitlin has this miraculous ability to take him by surprise while simultaneously always seeming so startlingly familiar that he's well used to the sensation by now.)

Her attempt at confidence, formerly betrayed only by her smile and the minute carriage of her frame, slips a little further under the recognizable timbre of his concern. Caitlin lets her hint of a smile drop away, eyes falling towards the hem of her perfect dress before they skitter back up to catch his. What he sees swirling in that wonderfully familiar brown makes him wonder how much he's missed lately, if this has been building for days, bit by bit, escaping his notice.

"I don't know Barry," she finally admits, looking lost (sounding lost). The feeling seems like a throwback to those long, miserable days following the particle accelerator explosion, those days after losing Ronnie and before finding Barry, when she'd felt moor-less in a sea of loneliness. It's not nearly so sharp, not nearly so soul consuming, but the fact that she feels even a ghost of that feeling now, wearing her wedding dress and about to meet Ronnie and say the vows she's dreamed of so many times, worries her. She should be nothing but smiles and incandescent happiness, should be bursting at the seems with her own joy, and yet this sensation is leaving her to mar her lipstick as she gnaws at her lower lip the same way that nagging feeling gnaws at her heart.

Perhaps part of the problem is that she does know, that the answer to her hesitance comes in a quick rush the moment Barry catches her tells and, in that same gentle voice he always uses, calls her out on them (the same voice that had once noticed her lack of smiles, that had gotten her out of going down into the Cortex, that had commented on her lip biting what feels like lifetimes ago). Perhaps part the problem is also that kiss, that kiss with a Barry that wasn't Barry and yet was a kiss that she had leaned in to, letting her curiosity overcome her surprise. That kiss that had left her breathless and even more curious, that kiss that the real Barry had seen, that they'd talked about afterwards, dancing around the consequences (the reasons, the possibilities) of her kissing back and the flutter the idea had unfurled through his abdomen. (A kiss that had taken place two days before Ronnie had returned and everything that had already changed in their lives changed once again.)

Perhaps the problem is simply **them** and all the possibilities and reasons and consequences that dance along the too sharp edges of that four-letter word.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to Caitlin," Barry finally says, his words balancing on an array of cadences: understanding, caution, uncertainty, concern, and somewhere between the layers of that quiet baritone, a little bit of hope. It breaks Caitlin's thought process and twists her heart just a little, the sting of tears pressing light against the corners of her conflicted eyes. "But you also shouldn't feel guilty about doing what you do want." Because of course Barry will make everything okay, whatever she wants or feels or thinks: so long as that wandering trail leads to her happiness, he will gladly support it.

The problem is that now that the choice seems made, now that she stands in this dress that she was once so sure she wanted to wear, ready to promise forever with a man that she was once so sure she wanted forever with, she's not sure of the choice. And the reason for that indecision is standing in front of her, looking so understanding that it makes the choice that much harder, rather than easier.

There's something between them and they both know it.

It's been building, piece-by-piece, since the moment he opened his eyes and she demanded a urine sample, through countless conversations, a myriad of minor disagreements, innumerable supportive touches and hundreds of shared glances. For the longest time, neither has been entirely certain what that something is: if it's just the comfort and understanding of someone who's been there or it it's something more. The kiss (almost kiss?) and the conversation that had followed have done nothing to clear the lines, especially with Ronnie back and those feelings (and his feelings for Iris) marring what is already cloudy enough all on its own.

"He makes me happy," she says it like it's automatic because, really, it is. She knows Ronnie, knows she has and does love him, knows he makes her happy and she makes him happy and that those are all certainties that she already has evidence to support. But she also says it like a sigh, like it's a little bit of a resignation, because yes, it's a fact but that doesn't mean one fact excludes another: Barry could make her happy too, she could make him happy and they could go through their lives building a mountain of evidence. But could is not does, it's not a certainty and at the end of the day, it's not fair to anyone to throw away all their lives (because there are so many at stake) on maybes and could bes.

Her tone draws the quietest smile from his lips, so different than the grins and smirks she's used to. Maybe she's not the only one who feels the pull of resignation, maybe they're both letting themselves fall into known facts rather than diving into the risk of possibility (maybe it's hard for them both). "Then that's all that really matters." And if her heart breaks the tiniest bit at how completely sincere he is, at how they can both bury the maybes that make up that four-letter problem of them, then she can't imagine anyone will blame her.

"Thank you Barry." Caitlin lets her mouth settle into an equally small smile, but it's a far more honest one then she'd worn walking out that handful of life-changing minutes ago.

"Anything for you Cait," and he means it, feels all the questions between them settle with this decision they've both made (the decision to stick with what they know, rather than risk everyone's hearts for something they can't be sure of) but all the same, he strides forward and can't resist one kiss: an agreement pressed against the line of those soon to be dancing curls, a goodbye for one life they might have lived and a hello to another. "We better get going, don't want to let any meta-human disasters interrupt your big day."

Barry smiles through the ceremony, standing next to Joe, with eyes only for the smile Caitlin wears and the way she looks in that perfect white dress. He memorizes the way she looks with pearls dripping across her collar and he grins a little mischievously, as if caught in a private joke, at the way her curls get caught up in her earrings. He stands there watching as Dr. Stein pronounces them husband and wife and he never lets anything but joy color his expression because he really, truly is happy for her. (Well, perhaps there are a few moments when the expression falters, when their joint resignation settles like a stone against his heart but he's the Flash—those moments are fast and fleeting, replaced with a smile at 800 miles an hour.)

* * *

So this obviously was written (or started at least) before episode 19, and was all based on speculation of events we'd seen in trailers and a snowbarry twist, so very, very au now and it was pretty au then. All the same, hopefully you enjoyed. I'm going to be working to try and update far more frequently, as time allows, because I have a good 100+ fics backlogged (not all for this story collection, but still, there's a lot). Look forward to some more au verses being spawned and more collections of stories under those verses.

(Also, story theme and title credit to A Drop in the Ocean, Ron Pope).

Take care &amp; best wishes!

AOR


	57. saturday mornings

_**saturday mornings**_

* * *

Saturday mornings might just be his new favorite thing.

Still half asleep, Barry is sprawled across Caitlin's cream-colored sheets, wearing nothing but his boxers and a lazy smile. The door to her attached bathroom is cracked open, spilling steam and giving him an un-muffled opportunity to be lulled into a peaceful stupor by the joint sounds of running water and Caitlin singing along (adorably out of tune) to the music on her phone.

It's been just over three months since their first date (and just under three years since they first met) and he can't remember the last time he's been this ridiculously happy. It's not that things are always perfect, or that they're always easy, but they always work it out and it's always worth the effort.

They just work so well together. They know nearly everything about one another—all the big things at least—and they've been having fun working their way through finding out all the little things too (like how she loves The Lord of the Rings and how he's secretly fascinated by Roman mythology; the way she giggles when his fingers trail across her bare sides and the way his breath stutters in her throat when she presses her lips below his left ear). It feels like every day with Caitlin is a new adventure, more thrilling then any he has as the Flash.

Unconsciously, Barry joins her in singing the upbeat pop tune that's swelling over the sounds of her shower, humming along to the melody with his eyes closed, fingers tapping out the beat against her comforter. He's so caught up in it that he misses the quiet shriek of the faucet turning off and the heavy scrape of the shower door sliding open.

He doesn't, however, miss the sound of Caitlin's laughter in the doorway a few minutes later.

Barry's eyes fly open, a grin spreading across his cheeks as he takes in the sight before him: Caitlin Snow all wrapped up in nothing but a dark towel and a bright smile, watching him as closely as he's watching her. "Good morning," she says, the sound of her laughter infused in her greeting, warming him more thoroughly then the sunlight streaking boldly between the blinds on her bedroom windows.

He means to say something cheeky, wants to draw another warmly fond laugh from between her lips, but the words get stuck in his throat as it strikes him just how perfect all of this is: waking up tangled together, laying in bed listening to her shower, starting his day the exact same way he ended it—smiling and happy and with Caitlin. Instead of a smart remark, the words "I love you" tumble out on an astounded exhale, reverent and filled with awe and certainty. The sincerity of it catches in his chest, his heart all but melting at the way the words fall across her features: her eyes soften, her smile stretches and she strides across the room in the span of a heartbeat.

Suddenly Caitlin is hovering over him, still in her towel, wearing the biggest smile he's ever seen. Her damp curls are framing her face, filling the space between them and tickling where they drip chillily across his bare skin. He just laughs as she breathes out an "I love you too" and then meets him halfway for a kiss.

* * *

Just some fluff because who doesn't love a little fluff? Plus, the last chapter carried some pretty heavy feelings. Hope you guys enjoyed!


	58. Objectively Gorgeous

Anonymous asked: Prompt: The first time Barry sees Caitlin in a swimsuit. (They went swimming in the Season Zero comic but it doesn't have to be then.)

* * *

_**Objectively Gorgeous**_

* * *

"You should probably close your mouth Barry," a suggestion that tumbles out on a poorly disguised laugh, somewhere to his right.

Said mouth snaps shut with a nearly audible _click_ as two wide green eyes flash over to Cisco with a speed that would make his alter ego jealous. Already sprawled out an insanely loudly patterned beach towel in the sand, Cisco is grinning like the cat that caught the canary. Barry can tell by the way he's shaking, that he's also barely holding back the bark of laughter that had colored his advice. As Barry's lips curl into a wide, sarcastic grin, he shakes his head to fend off the accusation but Eddie, likewise sitting near enough by to watch the whole exchange, cuts off the attempt. He supposes it would have been a pretty poor one anyway, all things considered.

"Seriously Bar, you're not fooling anyone." And he sounds way too smug under those sunglasses and cocky grin, especially given the fact that Barry knows his reaction to Iris a few minutes earlier hadn't been much better. Of course, he's actually dating Iris, so the gawking is probably a lot more appropriate.

Still. What gives them the right to—

"Perfect spot guys," Iris interrupts his mental tirade as she and Caitlin, now newly changed into their swimsuits, join them at the section of sand they've managed to lay claim to via their vast collection of beach towels and huge cooler. It's a perfect summer afternoon—blue skies, high temps, a breeze off the water and not a disaster in sight—so they've decided to indulge in an afternoon off at one of Central City's many sandy beached lakes. All in all, not a bad call, at least until the girls had gone to change and the two guys had decided it was time to gang up on him.

Barry takes a precious few seconds to roll his eyes slightly at Cisco and Eddie, the closest he'll come to getting the last word in on this conversation, before turning to greet Iris and Caitlin as well. He smiles and nods to Iris before his focus trails over to Caitlin and promptly short circuits once again.

Because good lord, Caitlin Snow is gorgeous. Objectively speaking, it's not like he hasn't always known that his friend is beautiful, it's kind of a hard fact to miss (just because he'd been in love with Iris, had dated Linda, does mean he's been blind). This however, this is a whole different ballgame, one that reminds him sharply of that night out at karaoke, when she'd worn that black dress that had first forced him to realize that Caitlin Snow is so much more than beautiful (he'd nearly swallowed his own tongue that night and he's not exactly faring much better now, embarrassing as it is to admit to himself).

"You okay Barry?" Her voice, hovering somewhere in the neighborhood of concerned and worried, catches his attention and drags it back where it should be: her face. (Rather than the long expanses of exposed skin, marked by the occasional freckle, and interrupted only by two meager scraps of cobalt blue fabric that contrasts those dark cinnamon eyes perfectly). "You look a little flushed." She's in full doctor mode now, leaning in to check him more closely, brows furrowed in thought as she watches the way his pupils dilate (which has nothing to do with heat or dehydration and everything to do with the scent of lilies that accompanies her increased proximity) and no doubt wondering if high heat and sun exposure are perhaps reacting adversely to his rapidly multiplying, crazily mutated cells.

The snickering behind him—Cisco and Eddie, though there's a smirk on Iris's face that indicates she's caught on as well (not surprising, she is a damn good reporter after all)—is what startles him into an actual reaction; releases his caught tongue to do something more productive than stick in his throat. He pulls his lips back into a smile, shrugging his bare, too pale, freckled shoulders before leaning over toward the cooler to grab two bottles of water. "I'm fine, just a little warm and kind of thirsty. Water?"

Caitlin just gives him one last, lingering, puzzled look, not entirely buying his excuse, before she reaches out to grab the bottle he offers. "If you say so," she replies, hesitant and unconvinced before she twists off the cap and presses her (too red) lips to the bottle and Barry is definitely not following the drop of condensation that splashes against her collarbone only to end up soaking into the cobalt blue of her top. (He's pretty sure Cisco and Eddie have even given up laughing at him at this point, but then again, he might just be too hyper focused to notice at this point.)

"I think it's time for a nice, cool swim."

* * *

Just a short, light hearted little piece about Barry seeing Caitlin in a new light, plus Friendly Five (which is what I call a fic with the whole gang as friends, none of the drama, with join Snowbarry &amp; Westhawne pairings). Hope you guys enjoyed a little silly fluff.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	59. the only thing you haven't tried

Anonymous asked: Hello! It's tie girl again haha. I loved your fic and I'm glad you liked my request. I come with another one this time (sorry lol) Barry is fighting a metahuman. He's terribly injured, so badly to the point he thinks he's gonna die. And that makes him regret not confessing his feelings to Caitlin. Whether he lives or dies is up to you. Is this too dark? I don't know, you're not obliged to write it if you don't want to. But anyways, keep up the good work :D

[Keep in mind this was written pretty early in season 1, before the Wells stuff, before Iris knew about the Flash.]

* * *

_**the only thing you haven't tried**_

* * *

It's entirely his own fault and Barry's not sure if that makes it better or worse: that moment when he realizes that he's made a potentially fatal mistake and suddenly there's a meta human with perfect aim and reflexes (hyperkinetic, says Caitlin's voice in the back of his mind, smiling through her exasperation when she'd realized he was only half listening a few hours ago) throwing a knife at him, following it up with two more. The world around him erupts into stars and the jagged, red-hot heat of pain that sears across his abdomen, his chest and the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Barry cries out and falls, fainting against the shrill sounds of Caitlin and Cisco panicking in his ear.

Thank God, Eddie's not too far away, waiting in the wings incase he needs to lend a hand. He sees everything play out, shouting out in the half second prior to the voices in his earpiece erupting in distress. He hits the ground running, slow enough that the bad guy is already gone, holding his breath until he reaches the Flash whereupon that breath releases in a string of desperate prayers intermingled with "stay with me buddy's". Tearing his shirt sleeves, he packs and covers the wounds as best and as quickly as he can, then scoops up the bloody, leather clad speedster and is back in his car with the lights on, shouting to Caitlin to get prepped while he speeds through the late night streets of Central City, flashing blue and red across every barren alleyway and intersection.

Cisco and Joe meet Eddie at the door with a stretcher they've pulled from who knows where (a pre-caution it hadn't taken Caitlin long to think to take). They load him with fear-steadied hands and white knuckles, scarcely daring to breath.

Caitlin meets them at the elevator, everything ready in the lab but her patient and in a blink, she's swinging herself up onto the stretcher, settling carefully over Barry's hips to she can apply more pressure to the wounds while they descend a few levels and then push the pair and the stretcher into the lab. Caitlin swings herself out of the way again, hands lingering against the worst two gashes, barefoot (heels lost somewhere between ground floor and the lab) and already covered in blood, while Eddie helps Joe transfer Barry onto the medical table. The next half an hour is a flurry of directions and medical equipment and blood soaked cotton as Caitlin desperately works to repair his wounds and Cisco hooks up monitors in response to her clipped requests. Joe, Eddie and Dr. Wells watch largely on the periphery, moving forward only when asked to, fetching whatever Caitlin needs all while watching the color slip from Barry's cheeks.

Finally everyone calms a little, the flurry of activity runs slow and then stagnant and they're all just standing around, afraid to ask the only question running through all their minds. Eyes travel between their ashen-faced superhero and their damp eyed doctor who's own gaze is only for her patient, but they're pulled with such anxiety that everyone knows she doesn't have any more answers then they do. All the same, she breathes a sigh and turns away to look at the four men. "He lost a lot of blood and he's been out for a long time. I don't know." The admission is so far from cool and clinical—so far from the Dr. Caitlin Snow that had once delivered the diagnosis on his coma, had brought dispassionate updates each time Joe and Iris had visited. Now her voice breaks against the words, raw in the aftermath of flagging adrenaline while she allows the tears she'd fought back earlier to spill. It's Eddie who leads her out of the room to wash the blood from her arms, a steady hand against her shoulder, while the others keep watch on their scarcely breathing friend.

The hours tick on and Barry's wounds begin to heal, buoyed by Caitlin's efforts, but the too-fast process still seems far too slow on this occasion and Barry doesn't wake up. They all wait, clustered together in the quiet lab, until finally Joe succumbs to the logic he'd rather ignore. He and Eddie need to get to work, the meta-human is still on the loose, thinking he's beat the Flash and there's nothing to stop him. No one needs to promise they'll call at the first hint of a change, but they do anyway and both Joe and Eddie nod gratefully, each pausing when they reach Caitlin. Joe gives her shoulder a squeeze and mutters reassuringly that he'll be fine, that Barry's stubborn and will pull through, that she did everything she can and it will be okay. Eddie tugs her into a hug but says nothing, just gives an extra tight squeeze and sighs and then they're gone.

Caitlin is clean now, devoid of any trace of blood and wearing a spare set of STAR Labs sweats, but she still feels the weight of the procedure, the fragility of his skin, the slick heat of too much blood and it's kept her silent and stoic and nearly in tears since the moment she fell into the spray of the shower. Barry's had close calls before, but they've never been this bad. She's never patched him up feeling like she was fighting a losing battle, has never been afraid that she'd seen the last of those smiling green eyes making light of the situation, rolling as he teases that she worries too much. Frankly, she's terrified in a way she's only been once before, but now it's so much worse because if something happens, there won't be a Barry Allen on the other side to pull her through.

Barry Allen with his playful smirks and his wide beaming smiles and his laughing green eyes that see everything about her. It's been nearly a year and a half since those eyes first opened and stole her attention and somewhere along they way, they've managed to steal her heart too. And now she's sitting here, next to his bed, praying to all the Gods she's never really believed in that he's going to be okay. That his stupid inability to think ahead isn't actually going to get him killed, like she always warns him it will (she's never so badly wanted to be wrong in her life).

At some point, Cisco makes them coffee and she grips it like it's a lifeline but she doesn't drink it. Even though her best friend means well, she doesn't want Cisco's hazelnut blend—she wants a midday chai latte with Barry at Jitters because he's waiting for evidence to process and needs some spare calories and is trying to convince her to take a break from her research. How many times has she rolled her eyes at his inability to focus, only to let him pull her along anyway? How long have all of her favorite things revolved around this stupid superhero and how is it only now, as she's dangling on the edge of losing him, that she realizes just how much she can't lose him, how tightly his knit himself into her every reason to smile and laugh? Her thoughts get lost in memories she can barely stand to hold on to and eventually the weight of them lull her into a restless, uncomfortable sleep at the edge of his bed.

A little while later she wakes up to irregularity: a sudden change in the beeping monitors that helped pull her to sleep. Startled, she flies out of the chair, only to notice that Cisco and Wells are already there, hovering over the bed and watching as Barry's eyes flutter slowly open. They all breathe their first sighs of relief and begin simultaneously running through protocols and questions to check his condition. When he passes them all with flying colors, Cisco lets out a laugh that's a little too thin to be true humor and then gives Barry a hard time about slicing up his suit. Dr. Wells claps him gently on the shoulder, mutters a 'thank God' that doesn't seen in line with the scientist he is, and then goes to call Joe and pass along the news.

Caitlin is silent once her checklist of questions has been fulfilled. The silence doesn't go unnoticed and so Cisco beats a (still grinning, still shaky, still so relieved) retreat.

Left alone, the silence grows heavy as Caitlin sinks back into the chair beside his bed and Barry watches her from the corner of his eyes, still too stiff and sore to move much. He knows that he needs to break this stalemate, that this silence is his fault, but his head is still fuzzy and if there's anything that he knows for sure, it's that the words he wants to say have to come out right. (Of course, his best intentions clearly haven't served him well today, so what the hell?).

"I thought I was going to die today," he finally sighs, still shaken. He's never felt like that before—not in those first days of discovering his powers, not facing off against Captain Cold and Heat Wave—and the experience, those moments between being wounded and passing out, were some of the longest of his life. All he could think about, so sure that he'd finally run himself into something he couldn't flash out of, was that he'd done it again: missed his chance with an amazing woman because he hadn't been brave enough to just tell her how he felt. The idea that he'd never get to, that he was leaving her behind (that he was another person leaving her behind), had been a cold weight that had hurt far more than the sharp blades of the meta human's knives.

A sniffle draws his attention, forces him to fight past the pain and shift in his seat, and Barry's eyes fall upon a crying Caitlin. "I thought you were too," she admits. They all did and in a world suddenly filled with meta humans and monsters, it's the scariest thing she's even seen.

For a long moment he watches her curl into herself on the cramped chair, head buried in her hands and her blue cotton covered shoulders shaking. She's a mess and he's a mess and since he doesn't seem to be dying today, he's not going to let his stupid insecurities stop them from at least being a mess together. Not again, not if there's the slightest chance that that's what she wants too. He cannot go into another fight wondering if he won't come out of it, if he'll never get the chance to just tell her.

"Caitlin." She looks up and for a moment he's transfixed, watching the way her tears cling to her eyelashes, the look on her face simultaneously hurting and concerned and confused by the rasp in his voice as he calls her name. "I thought I was going to die today and the only thing I could think about was you," Barry breathes a soft smile at the way his words knit a puzzled expression across her brow, one side of her lower lip disappearing between her teeth as she tries to stem the tears that are still pooling behind her eyes. "And how much I was going to regret not telling you how I felt about you."

He's had every ounce of her attention from the moment she heard him gasp out in pain too far away and falling, but everything feels like it's in hyper focus as he holds her gaze with his. "I'm pretty sure I've been falling in love with you since the day you told me you weren't going to keep patching me up, but kept doing it anyway." There's not a muscle in his body that feels like laughing except his heart, but he gives in to the sensation anyway and ignores the way it makes everything hurt—a ghost of a smile flickers across Caitlin's lips and it makes every ache (searing or dull) worth it. "With Iris and Ronnie and everything else, the timing just never seemed right, but those feelings just kept growing," every touch, every laugh, every celebratory night out, every commiserating night in. "But today I realized that the only wrong time is when you think you're dying—anytime you feel it is the right moment to tell someone you love them." His smile is soft, tender, their eyes still locked. "And I love you Caitlin Snow. I'm sorry I'm not better at this," he adds, forcing another laugh as he waits for her reaction—ready to accept whatever that reaction might be.

That being said, he certainly doesn't expect the one he gets: Caitlin hits him, hard, on the shoulder farthest from his injuries and then launches herself forward to carefully bury her face against him, crying and laughing, and shaking from one or the other. Somewhere amongst the chaos of those two sounds though, he catches the only phrase that matters "I love you too, you idiot" and he figures that all in all, his day could have gone worse.

When Joe and Eddie return to the lab during their lunch break, Cisco and Dr. Wells in tow, they find them curled on the hospital bed together, asleep.

* * *

Title comes from Ed Shereen's 'Even My Dad Does Sometimes' which is the song I listened to on repeat for this fic. Takes places in a future where Eddie is still definitely in the know, obviously, and Barry and Caitlin have just continually got closer in that year &amp; a half or so that he's been the Flash.

Thoughts always appreciated. Not sure if the last line was needed but I wanted to tie everyone back in and figured it made for a cute visual: both so exhausted from the day's events and worries that they pass back out together.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes,

AOR


	60. double date escapades

_Anonymous asked: You can make a Snowbarry in Iris's view jealous of the two?_

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**double date escapades**

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"Okay, I'm not going to lie," Iris laughs as Barry and Caitlin rejoin their little table amidst a cascading thunderstorm of applause. Her focus is on Caitlin, smile bright and dark eyes dancing. "I am completely jealous that you can get Barry Allen to sing karaoke. I can't count the number of times I tried to get him to come out and sing when we were in college."

Sliding into the seat next to Iris, Caitlin laughs as well though the sound is a little embarrassed. A hint of red steals across her cheekbones as she gives the man in question a sidelong glance. Barry just grins widely, knowing they're thinking about the exact same thing. "Well, I may have been a little intoxicated the first time it happened," she begins, voice light and a little flippant. She's always a little torn about the memory. It's not one of her proudest evenings, but all the same, it's a night that helped kick start them on the path to where they are now: out on a double date with Eddie and Iris, having a few drinks after dinner and a movie.

If Caitlin was hoping that her segue way would adequately quench Iris's curiosity, she's sorely mistaken. She's not one of Picture News's best reporters by coincidence, so she leans forward and nudges Caitlin's drink with her own, not even close to satisfied with the vaguely dismissive explanation of drunkenness. "Details please!"

"Yeah Cait, tell Iris about the first time you and I sang Summer Nights together." Barry teases from her right, purposefully being absolutely no help. He easily dodges the hand that comes out to swat at his shoulder, catching it instead and intertwining their fingers in that way that always makes her immediately forgive him for anything. All the same, she rolls her eyes at his antics before hesitantly launching into the story of their drunken evening, right down to her less-than-graceful behavior back at her apartment (at least, as best as she can remember it). Here Barry jumps in, filling in the details that have not gotten any clearer in the months that have passed since that night. She'd be flushing red again, except Barry's running his fingers over the back of her hand slowly and the action is completely distracting her from the full extent of her mortification (luckily for him).

By the end of the story, Eddie and Iris are laughing so loudly at the whole situation that even Caitlin can't deny the urge to join them. It's pretty hard to stay embarrassed by a night that's helped change her life in such a positive way. "I'm pretty sure he just signed us up tonight because I'm tone deaf and he likes showing off and getting me back for that night." She cuts off Barry's token protests with a kiss against his cheek, no actual heat in the accusation. Completely redirected, he winks and snags a real kiss the second she pulls away.

"Still," Iris adds, smiling at them and nudging Caitlin's shoulder affectionately (they're both overjoyed at the friendship they've developed in the last half a year, it's always nice to not be the only lady amongst all the boys), "It's pretty impressive. Obviously he just needed the right incentive."

* * *

Not my favorite story I've written, but just a quick, fun take on this idea. Snowbarry &amp; Westhawne date night. Sorry it's not quite to the prompt but I love Iris and I hate writing jealously and I cannot picture Iris being jealous of Snowbarry so I kind of twisted the idea.

Take Care &amp; Best Wishes!


End file.
